


Acknowledging Fears

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Episode Related, Gap Filler, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-21
Updated: 2004-09-30
Packaged: 2018-12-27 01:47:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 96,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12071169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Episode 4-10.  I didn't like how the show ended so I wanted a continuation of the last scene where Justin gives Brian the soup.  Figured there had to be more to the story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Brian didn’t say anything, just simply took the bowl of soup Justin had placed on the night table next to him. He still wasn’t altogether pleased that Justin was there but better him than Michael. Michael would just turn into a weepy mess, seeing as he was half-Italian, half-drag queen. At least, Justin wouldn’t do that.

He ate in silence, Justin keeping a wary eye on him. Keenly aware of the intense scrutiny, he said, “You’re pissed at me.” That was an understatement. Rarely had he seen the young blond look so mutinous or scared. Justin had really gone off on him. Not that it was entirely undeserved, Brian admitted.

“A bit, yeah,” Justin said, pleased that his voice didn’t waver. Brian finished the last of the soup and with a meekness completely out of character handed him the bowl.

Justin stood, made to take it to the kitchen, when Brian spoke softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry’s bullshit.” He threw the oft-used line back at Brian who acknowledged it as a direct hit with a barely perceptible nod. “For what?” He valiantly tried to hide his skepticism.

“Lying to you about Ibiza.” The fatigue was hitting him with a vengeance and he cursed the nurse at the radiation center to a lifetime without orgasm. He was relieved there was no nausea, at least for the moment.

Justin sighed, taking the bowl to the kitchen. He rinsed it out and put the rest of the batch in the refrigerator. He figured Brian was having a hard enough time keeping it down without trying to fix himself food. Brian wasn’t a culinary expert on the best of occasions. He, too, noted the meager contents of the refrigerator. What had Brian been eating? Probably nothing, he realized. Culinary skills just weren’t among Brian’s many talents.

“You coming back?” Brian’s voice was low and guarded. 

“Yeah. Need anything from in here?” He was relieved that Brian had stopped trying to kick him out, at least for the moment. It didn’t escape him that it was entirely possible that he’d just given up fighting for the moment, that he’d be back to wanting him out of his life the next day. But for now Justin was willing to accept the tacit agreement not to discuss it.

“Water and my briefcase. Can you turn off the lights and set the alarm?”

“Sure.” Surely he’s not planning on doing any work. He could barely sit up. Eating the fucking chicken soup had been a struggle. Anything more substantial would be impossible.

Returning to the bedroom after complying with Brian’s requests, Justin handed him a bottle of water and set the briefcase down next to him. Then he crossed to the closet and retrieved a spare blanket. He’d learned never to make assumptions where Brian was concerned though it’d been a long time since he’d been relegated to sleeping on the sofa.

Brian marked the action and sighed inwardly. “What are you doing?” He ground out the words.

“I was going to sleep in the living room.”

Glancing at the clock, Brian shook his head. “It’s not even six and that’s fucking ridiculous, Justin.”

Justin raised an eyebrow, an action very akin to one Brian himself employed. Fuck this, Brian thought. He was certainly in no mood or shape to deal with this. Aloud he said, “I’m not kicking you out of our bed.” It was a moment before he realized what he’d said but it was true. It had been a long time since it had just been his bed. Try as he might he couldn’t take back the words, and he found he meant them. It was also clear to him that Justin wasn’t going anywhere.

It didn’t escape Justin’s attention that Brian had used the word our bed. For a long time, it had been just Brian’s bed and he’d been content to just sleep within arm’s length of the older man. Gradually, as Brian became accustomed to sleeping the whole night with someone else, he’d creep closer to Justin, spooning him. So Justin silently replaced the blanket and Brian gave him a soft smile. “Did you bring stuff other than your school bag?”

Justin shook his head. Though he was still at Daphne’s, he spent most nights at Brian’s. “No, I wasn’t----”

“Sure if I’d kick you out or not,” Brian finished the statement for him.

It had alarmed him when he’d realized he knew the blond well enough to finish his sentences. 

“Yeah,” Justin agreed.

He kept a few items at Brian’s and stuff was gradually accumulating but he hadn’t moved back in and Brian hadn’t asked. He figured he and Brian had a Woody-and-Mia type relationship. Thought Brian was happier that way. With a life together but separate. Separate so they could each retain their autonomy.

Though he was beginning to feel pain from the earlier bout of radiation, he said, “Why don’t you go back to Daphne’s and get some of your things? I’m sure you’re hungry and Michael informed me all I have is poppers and bottled water. Take my card, or I think I may have a hundred in cash. Hell, take both.” Then, “The keys are on the counter.”

“You’re gonna let me drive the ‘vette?” Justin couldn’t hide his astonishment. The ‘vette was Brian’s baby.

The ’71 hunter green Corvette Stingray was Brian’s dream car, truly a wet dream on wheels, or an extension of the favored piece of Brian’s anatomy. Yes, that one.

“Yes. Go before I change my mind.”

“You need anything?”

So many ways to answer that question and Brian felt it was too much effort to reply glibly or sarcastically as he was wont to do. “I can hardly keep anything down, Sunshine. I’ll probably just fall asleep. I’m so fucking tired.” Responding to the worried glance Justin cast in his direction, he said, “I’ll be fine. Take your time.”

“I love you,” Justin said quietly. Sensing that Brian, on some deep level, needed to know that.

Brian simply nodded. I love you, too remained unsaid.

When the door closed behind Justin, he heaved a sigh of relief. There were things he and Justin needed to discuss. And there were decisions that needed to be made. So Brian picked up the phone and pressed speed dial # 3, listened as the connection was made.

“Sidney Bloom gallery.”

“Lindsay Peterson, please.”

When Lindsay came on the line, Brian said, “Linz, it’s Bri. I need to talk to you and your bitter half.”

“What’s wrong?” The statuesque blonde immediately went into mother mode. Brian brought out her protective instincts. And he never opted to speak to Melanie unless he had to.

Like Michael and Justin, Linz could sense when all was not right with Brian. It irritated him a great deal. The “man of ice” thing worked for years until a certain blond caused him to begin to melt. Oh, fuck, she’s gonna mother me to death. I already have one of those. I don’t need another. But he held his tongue, simply saying, “Just come over Saturday morning.”

As an afterthought he added, “Bring Gus. I don’t want him forgetting his old man.”

Linz felt suddenly cold, as fingers of ice danced along her spine. Something was wrong, very wrong. “Bri, what the fuck is wrong?” She spoke softly, not wanting to alarm other patrons of the gallery.

There were reasons Lindsay and Michael were his best friends. They would both support him till the bitter end. And both loved him in spite of all his faults, of which there were many. Unlike Justin who loved him because of his faults, not in spite of them. The difference was their love was unwavering. He couldn’t say the same about Justin, though the blond had come back for more on more than one occasion.

“Bri.” There was a high note of panic in Lindsay’s voice.

Shit. “Saturday. Make sure you bring Melanie and Sonny Boy.”

Without another word, he hung up the phone, leaving Lindsay standing in the middle of the gallery with a shell-shocked expression on her face and fear closing a vise-like grip on her heart.

Across town, Justin had reached the apartment he shared with Daphne. Daphne stood in his doorway, watching him pack. “How is he?” She asked, chocolate brown eyes dull with worry.

“Grumpy.”

“You would be too if you had cancer. Is he undergoing treatment?”

“Yeah, radiation. I guess they wait to see if the radiation helps before starting chemo.” Justin so didn’t want to think about this, didn’t want to acknowledge that he might actually lose Brian to something neither one of them could control. Funny how fate works isn’t it? Christ, this is fucking surreal.

“How are you doing?”

Justin simply looked at her. “Trying to be strong for him. I can’t imagine my life without him in it. He can be exasperating and infuriating but I love him, Daph. I can’t believe he thinks I’d leave him because he lost a ball.”

Daphne crept a little farther into the room. For two people who loved each other, they sure could be blind. “He’s scared, Justin. You didn’t seem him that night you got hurt.” That image of Brian cradling Justin’s crumpled body was forever seared into her brain. “Brian wouldn’t let anyone close to you or him. And you have left him.” 

“But Ethan was a mistake. Brian knows that. He knows I love him.”

Daphne patiently nodded. “Remember Psych 101?”

“Yes,” Justin said, slowly.

“Kubler-Ross said there were five stages of grief. It’s going to take him some time. You’re going to have to be patient. Brian’s grieving. It’s a good thing he’s letting you in. Pushing you away was his way of giving you an out.”

Justin remembered the last time Brian’d pushed him away. It’d backfired. So he stared at his best friend. “Daph, we’re partners. We made a commitment. I’m not gonna walk out on him. I’ve seen him at his worst.”

She shook her head. Somehow she doubted that. She figured they’d just barely begun to embark on the worst parts of things. She’d seen cancer survivors. Brian was a fighter but he was also a moody, mercurial man who closed things up and then finally exploded. It was what a communication professor had once referred to as a “gunny-sacker”. And she had a suspicion that he was also prone to depression, though he’d be damned if he admit to it. “No, you haven’t. The worst is yet to come. Prove to him you’re up to the challenge. Brian was high maintenance before. A complete control freak.”

“Yeah.”

“Justin, sweetie, he has no control over this. He’s bound to be feeling all sorts of things including rage. Just let him know you’re there for him.”

“You mind if I stay with him, if I’m not around as much?”

She snorted. “Just, I’d be worried if you weren’t staying with him. Most of your stuff is at the loft anyway. You only come by when things are rocky. Hell, I love him too. He can be a shit but he’s your shit.”

Justin hugged her. “Thanks, Daph.”

“What are best friends for?” she quipped. Now go home to the man you love, she thought.

An hour and a half later, Justin returned to a darkened loft, arms laden with bags.

“How’s my favorite girl?”

Justin jumped at the sound of Brian’s voice. He’d figured he’d be out. “She’s fine. I told her I might not be back for a while.”

Brian padded down the stairs, looking more comfortable in a worn pair of jeans and an old white wife-beater. “Hope that’s okay.”

Flipping on the light in the kitchen, Brian said, resigned, “It’s okay. We need to talk.”

Justin didn't like the sound of that. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said that. Are you feeling any better?”

“Took a pain pill. It hasn’t kicked in yet. Justin, I’m sorry.” There was such sincerity in Brian’s voice it tore him up inside. It was as if something had broken and the pieces had been rearranged in such a way that making it whole again was impossible.

“For?”

“Not telling you the truth. Thinking you’d walk out on me again. I’m used to making decisions without double-checking with someone else. So if I fuck up, it’s because this is goddamn new to me.”

“It’s okay.”

The quiet acceptance with which Justin delivered his response pissed Brian off. “It’s not okay. I’ve been a fucking asshole to you. You didn’t sign on for this, Justin.”

Justin set the bottles of guava juice and Perrier down on the counter. “I made a commitment, Brian. I meant what I said.”

“And I did too. But I don’t have any right to ask you to stay here, to give up a portion of your life because of me. I won’t do that.”

Brian sat down on one of the barstools. Justin put the two bottles up, figuring the rest of the groceries could wait. He walked around the counter and sat next to Brian. They sat next to each other in uneasy silence until Brian broke it. “I did too.”

“What?”

It wasn’t clear whether he was being deliberately obtuse or really wasn’t following him. “I made a commitment too. I meant what I said then, Justin.” His words were quiet.

He hesitated for a long moment, thinking about what he wanted to say next. Then decided on simple truth rather than spinning his response. He figured Justin could take the truth. “About being there for you. About how I feel about you. About us. The idea of us still scares the shit out of me. But I’m willing to try because I ---”

Fuck. I think he’s actually going to say it. Justin waited tensely. He’d wanted Brian to say it for years but now the simple act of admitting his feelings terrified him. For once, Justin would’ve given almost anything for a bottle of Jim Beam or Absolut to be sitting between them. But Brian was doing this stone-cold sober.

“Bri, I know. You don’t have to do this.”

Brian cut him off. “I know I don’t have to. This isn’t about me dying. If anything this has been a wake-up call. It’s about me living.”

“Brian,” Justin started.

“Shut up.” Brian suddenly stood, the sudden movement nearly toppling the bar stool. He felt nauseous and knew it wasn’t from the radiation, or not the effects of the radiation alone. “I need to do this,” he said, as if he were trying to convince himself of that. He took up the familiar pose at the window that looked out over Pittsburgh.

Justin stood as well. He felt weak. The moment he’d been anticipating and now he’d give anything for it not to come. Brian couldn’t die. He just couldn’t. He knew he could live without Brian; he’d done it after the bashing and for the brief interval between Ethan and Brian, take two. He just didn’t want to.

“When you got hurt, I felt such tremendous pain. Pain like my heart had been torn out. The paramedics wouldn’t let me ride in the ambulance at first cause I wasn’t family. I was more your family than your fucking father. I wouldn’t let you go. God, you looked so small and lifeless and I knew then that it would kill me to lose you. It hit me then like a fucking tsunami. I’d known since the King of Babylon contest. Maybe before. I’d fallen for you. You had my heart.” He paused a moment, then said ever so quietly, “Reminded me I had one. For years, I felt like the Tin Man.”

He turned to look back at Justin. Tears stood unshed in Brian’s hazel eyes, dark with emotion. “I sat in the hospital corridor for three fucking days, praying to a God that hates me, hates us, that you’d pull through. After you woke up, I’d go to the hospital and watch you sleep. It was the only way I’d be able to sleep. Everyone thought I’d just returned to my old ways of drinking, getting high, and fucking anything available. But I was there every night, watching you through the glass. You know that, right? I told you when we got back together that I was there. I wore that goddamn scarf as a reminder. A reminder to me that I’d failed to protect you, that you’d gotten hurt because of me. That you were better off without me. Hell, that everyone was better off without me because I’d only ever hurt you. You lost your dad because of me.”

Justin started at that. “God, Brian---”

“No fucking sympathy, Sunshine. Not now.”

Justin stood and joined Brian at the window, close enough to touch but knew Brian would shy away from the gesture. At times, he was as skittish as a horse. Thousands of men had touched every part of his body but he still shied away from the gentlest of touches at the strangest of times. It never failed to amaze Justin how fragile Brian could be, when he was the strongest of them all. 

Brian pretended not to notice that his voice was catching. “And you got out and things weren’t the same. That night changed both of us. When I agreed to the rules, it was my way of saying that I cared about you deeply, that I wanted to be with you. I couldn’t do the monogamy thing but I could promise to come home to you. The other guys don’t mean a thing.” Haven't meant a thing for a long time. Just a familiar way to escape, to relieve tension.

He returned to the sofa, sitting down in a corner, with Justin at the opposite corner. “I don’t want you to look at me as an obligation. And we have more to talk about. Including the prom and the bashing. Do you know how much it bothered me to have you going around with Cody and the Pink Posse?”

Justin had a pretty good idea. He could still remember the night Brian had discovered the gun. And the aftermath of what had happened when he confronted Hobbes. He and Brian really hadn't talked about it, just brushed it aside like so much dusty words under carpet. Wasn't that a song?

“It’s like that with the cancer. Justin, I have no fucking control over this. It’s eating away at me. And it’s not just my body it’s taking. It feel like it’s taking a part of my soul.”

Still silent, Justin and Brian sat, each reflecting. Then Brian spoke, “Can you help me to bed? The pills are kicking in?” The pills on top of self-exposure, he reminded himself.

“Sure,” he said, standing. He helped Brian to his feet, supporting some but not all of his weight.

Brian focused on negotiating the steps. He was relieved when he sank down on his side of the bed. “Don’t work too late. And as much as I hate it, we have stuff we need to talk about.” He made to undo the jeans, unable to hide the wince of pain. Make a joke out of it, Kinney. “Well, this is a first. I can’t seem to get my pants off.” Christ, how fucking humiliating is this? I haven't needed help undressing since I was Gus's age.

Justin sat down beside him. “Just lie back. I’m a master at undressing you.” Hoped that would be enough to make Brian smile.

He made short work of the jeans, tossing them at the end of the bed. Brian closed his eyes and Justin knew he was exhausted. “You cold?”

“No, just sleepy.”

Fresh tears sprang to Justin’s eyes but he dashed them away. He pulled the sheet up over Brian and hoped he’d sleep through the night. But knowing Brian as he did, he doubted that. Thought at some point during the middle of the night, he’d find his lover in the living room.

Justin returned to the living room, turning on the computer and pulled up a medical search engine, focusing on testicular cancer. He’d done a bit before but now he was faced with the cold and stark reality that Brian was sick.

As he read, it dawned on him that Daphne was right. Brian had absolutely no control over this. Lost in research, he was startled to realize just how late it really had gotten. He shut down the computer, turned off the lights, and reset the alarm.

He brushed his teeth and quietly slid into bed next to Brian, careful not to disturb him. He turned to face Brian and was surprised when Brian’s hazel eyes opened a bit. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You set the alarm?”

“Yeah.”

“Night.”

Justin’s arms eased around Brian and for once the older man allowed himself to be held. Justin listened to Brian's breathing and felt unaccountably relieved that Brian hadn't said, I love you. Felt that he would only have been saying it because he feared death. Justin felt him drop off into a deeper sleep and then sleep enveloped him. 

It was a little after two a.m. when Brian awoke to searing pain. He tried hard not to awaken Justin, but he saw his lover’s eyes slowly slide open. “You ok?” Justin asked, voice roughened with sleep.

“No,” he shook his head. “Need a pain pill,” he responded weakly.

A little more alert, Justin asked, “Where are they?”

“I can get them.” He tried to move to a sitting position but groaned with pain. Deciding it wasn’t worth an argument or more pain to salvage his pride, he simply said, “Second shelf. They’re marked with a label that says ‘may cause drowsiness’.”

Fuck, he thought. This is what I didn’t want anyone to see. Especially Justin. Me unable to stand, knees buckling with pain. And this is just the radiation. What happens if I need chemo? Then he remembered the promises he and Justin had made to each other. He had meant them then. Still meant them. But he couldn't help but wonder if Justin was strong enough to deal with this, deal with him even if he beat this thing. Hell, if Lance Armstrong could deal with this and ride in the Tour de France so can I, he thought.

“Brian, do you want me to bring the other bottles too?” Justin’s voice came from the bathroom.

He’d never felt so weak. “Yes. Justin---”

Coming to sit next to him on the bed, Brian took the bottle that Justin handed to him. As much as it pained him, he needed Justin cause he couldn’t do this on his own. “I need you to send Cynthia and Theodore emails letting them know I won’t be working tomorrow.”

“Who knows?”

Brian searched for the bottle of water, swallowed the pills before answering. “You, Ted, Michael, Cynthia. I assume Mikey’s told Ben. I suppose Daphne knows. Your mom?” Said the last as a question. “Just when I finally think your mom and I can actually be friends I get sick.” He saw the irony in that.

“Daphne knows. She loves you too, you know. I haven’t told Mom. I didn’t think you’d want her to know.”

Brian looked a question at him. Justin smiled. “I thought you’d want to tell her. Or we could tell her together. Your call.”

“I invited Linz, Melanie and Sonny Boy over on Saturday. What time do you have to work at the diner?”

“3-11.”

“Good. Now let’s go to sleep. I hope I sleep till ten, at least. I’m fucking exhausted.”

Justin was surprised Brian hadn’t told Lindsay. After all, they did share a child. But he also knew when to let things go. Brian probably had a good and valid reason for not telling her. So Justin eased into sleep, Brian curled up into him, one arm flung around his waist, anchoring them together. It had taken a long time for Brian to feel safe enough to do that without feeling vulnerable.


	2. Acknowledging Fears

Justin awoke the next morning to find he was alone in bed. “Brian?” he hesitantly inquired.

“In here.”

Sliding out of bed, he padded into the living room. “How long have you been up?” he asked, as he joined Brian at his desk.

“Since five. Couldn’t sleep. I guess I slept too much yesterday. Sent an e-mail to Michael.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You gonna tell me what happened with that?” Paused. “I didn’t give you much of a chance to explain before I threw you out.” Not one of his more graceful reactions, Brian knew. He had more of the drama queen in him than he liked to admit. That had been one of his more sensational displays and he wasn’t proud of it, or of hurting Justin like he had.

Brian took a sip from his mug of coffee, noticed Justin’s look, and smiled ruefully. “It’s decaf. As strong as I could make it.”

“Did I say anything?”

“You didn’t have to. The look said it all.”

“Sorry. So you want to know what happened? I wasn’t snooping or trying to pry into your business. You were in the shower and the phone rang. Your answering machine picked up and the doctor said he was calling from Johns Hopkins to discuss your post-surgery options. I didn’t know what the fuck to think. I guess I just panicked. So I assumed you’d told Michael.”

“Why the fuck would you think that?” Brian asked, knowing exactly why Justin would think that. Despite them being partners there were still walls that remained firmly entrenched in his psyche. But slowly they were beginning to crumble. It was just taking time.

“I panicked,” Justin repeated. “I went by the comic book store and asked him if he knew and he said no. But I should pretend like I didn’t know anything was wrong.”

Michael, thanks a fucking lot! “You should know by now that Mikey doesn’t always have your best interests in mind.” Brian sighed, then said, “It pissed me off that you knew and didn’t say anything. I felt like a fucking fool when Michael told me that you’d told him. I knew you knew something was up when I came back and we didn’t fuck. Or shower together. Christ, Justin, that was one of our most enjoyable activities. Or when I started closing the door to piss.” 

“You were going to tell me?” he asked, unable to hide the skepticism.

The look Brian gave him shocked him. “Yes,” he ground out. “I knew that of anyone you could handle it. That you wouldn’t coddle me, that you’d treat me like a man. You’re the strongest person I know, Justin. I was going to fucking tell you. I just didn’t know how. We’ve been back together for almost seven months. It was a hell of a thing to drop on you.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

 

“We all gotta go sometime.” Fuck me. I didn’t intend to say that aloud. He saw Justin’s face begin to crumple, a tell-tale sign that he was going to get emotional. “Shit, I’m sorry. They caught it in Stage 1. With surgery and follow-up radiation treatment there is a 99% survival rate.”

Understanding the rationale behind Brian’s response, “Thanks. So they got it all?”

“Yeah. But there’s always a chance it could come back. We need to be prepared for that.” We? He thought. Well, fuck, there could be worse things. I could be handling this alone. Or I could be under Joan Kinney’s loving care. He shuddered, thinking of that.

“So no caffeine, no smoking, no---”

Before Justin could run through the litany of things the doctor had tried to tell Brian, Brian said, as nonchalantly as he could, “Less indiscriminate fucking.”

Justin’s mouth dropped open. Brian couldn’t help but laugh at Justin’s reaction. He couldn’t have been more surprised if Brian had told him that he was really a breeder. “You serious?”

Though Brian had never considered monogamy as the lifestyle choice for him, he had drastically cut down on the amount of tricks. That could possibly have to do with the fact that after the bet, he’d found out that there was a lump in his ball. But even before the testicular cancer had been diagnosed, he’d been playing less and more frequently just with Justin. There were benefits to having a horny twenty-year-old in his life he’d come to realize even though he was worn out on occasion. Justin was a match for him on more than one level.

“Yeah, I’m serious.”

Coming straight to the point, he asked, “You doing this because you feel like you’re not good enough or cause you just want to fuck me?”

“Both,” he admitted, honestly. “Justin, it’s not just fucking.”

“What are you saying?”

Brian had to take a deep breath. “I’m saying that you were right. When I thought I was going to have to sell the loft, you said that it was where we made love for the first time. That’s true. That day after Gus’s birthday party when you remembered being hit by that fucker, I didn’t fuck you. That was me making love to you. And when we got back together after the fucking fiddler, I made love to you. Yeah, it was intense as hell, but it was about more than just getting off. It’s always been more with you.”

“So?”

“I can’t promise forever. Hell, I can’t even promise you a year, but I’m not running anymore.” Reminded him of the time he’d caught the young blond and told him about him not believing in relationships, only in fucking. God, how things had changed. Like dealing with baseball bats and homophobic football jocks, hustlers, aborted trips, fucking violin players. Now cancer. Anything else the universe wants to throw at me and Justin? Brian inquired.

 

“I never asked you to give up your life for me.”

Brian smiled. “No, you didn’t. I changed because somewhere along the line I realized that all the tricks weren’t making me happy.”

“Oh,” Justin said, stunned speechless. Then, he smiled warily. “Any other surprises?”

Brian hesitated slightly. There was a lot he had just laid on the kid. And there was more that was even heavier. “Yeah, you could say that. There’s some paperwork I need you to look at and sign.”

“Paperwork?”

Shit, I don’t want to put him through this. But it has to be done. “Yeah. I left my briefcase in the bedroom. Do you mind getting it?”

“Sure,” Justin said, dread creeping into his voice. At times, he wondered if Brian forgot he was not even twenty. He’d have been surprised to learn that was never far from Brian’s thoughts. Justin’s age had been at the forefront of his mind since he’d heard the words cancer in the doctor’s office.

A few minutes later, Justin returned with the black leather briefcase. He handed it to Brian and stood next to him. Before Brian spoke, he lay a hand on top of Justin’s so that their fingers were intertwined. “When Gus was born, Linz and Melanie asked me to buy a life-insurance policy. In the amount of a million dollars.” He couldn’t hide the bitterness. Even after three years, it still pissed him off as had Melanie’s rationale behind the request. Though now it was testicular cancer rather than his perceived dangerous lifestyle that might cost him his life. Well, he’d always wanted to go out in a blaze of glory like Cobain or Dean. Hell, even like Jimi Hendrix.

“I remember,” Justin’s quiet words cut into his thoughts. He’d been there the night Brian had decided to sign away his parental rights, had known how it cut his lover to the core to do that even though it was what was best for Gus.

“When you and I got back together and I realized that it wasn’t a rebound, I went to the insurance agency and took out a secondary policy.” Brian said, removing a sheaf of official looking documents from the briefcase. He handed them to Justin. “When we talked about being partners, I didn’t look at it lightly. There were more dimensions and I didn’t think of it as a joke. I was dead fucking serious when we talked about it. So, I took out a policy naming you as a partial beneficiary. The amount’s different but I wanted you taken care of.”

Justin paled. He took the paperwork, flipping through it, and then he gasped as he saw the dollar amount. “Brian, you didn’t have to do this. Holy fucking Christ.”

“Yep, that was pretty much my insurance agent’s reaction.” Brian tried to joke but knew that Justin was stunned and not altogether pleased with him.

“But $750, 000 dollars. Brian, you’re not gonna die.” Goddammit, he’s not gonna fucking die on me. Not when we have so much left to do.

 

“Not now. But I will. And I want you taken care of. You and Linz. Gus and Michael. You are the four most important people in my life and I’ll be damned if you get screwed by my death. I won’t do that to you.”

The two stared at each other as understanding dawned and a new plateau in their non-conventional, slightly fucked up relationship was reached.


	3. Acknowledging Fears

As Justin began to flip through the pages of the rather lengthy insurance policy, Brian sent the email he’d been working on for the past fifteen minutes and shut his laptop. Standing, he said rather quietly, “I’m going to take a shower. Then we can go eat.” And talk. Figure out what the hell we’re going to do next. He was too tired to dissect when he and Justin had coalesced into a “we” entity. That thought alone should have bothered him more. It bothered him that it didn’t bother him more.

Justin’s blue eyes had lost some of their sparkle, though they were still bright with emotion. It didn’t escape Brian’s attention that Justin didn’t ask to join him in the shower, simply nodded assent. Maybe this is finally sinking in, he thought. God knew he was having a rough enough time accepting it himself. It just wasn’t something he thought he’d be dealing with at the age of thirty-two. But the fates seemed determined to fuck with him and his perceptions of things. 

The words he’d once spoken to Michael came back to him in a rush. Life not worth living if not take risks. It had taken him brushing fingertips with his own mortality to realize that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to die young or alone. He wanted more. He wanted time to be a real father to Gus, not just one who dropped in occasionally with gifts and money for his mommy. God only knew how he was going to break the news to Lindsay. The blonde was as likely to dissolve in tears as she was to go off on him. He remembered a rather memorable occasion when she’d grabbed him by his balls, ordering him to go to the GLC Awards. Then he’d ignored her. But now the cost was just a little higher. He wanted to be able to give Justin more. Maybe, in time, give him what he really wanted. And what Brian so desperately wanted to tell him.

So with those thoughts scrambling for purchase in Brian’s mind, he turned the water on as hot as it would go, a nearly scalding temperature that only he could tolerate. He relished the heat, hated the cold. The water pelted him and Brian let his mind go places it didn’t really want to go. Like the insurance policy. That was the tip of the iceberg. There was the will. And, fuck me, the domestic partnership agreement, he reminded himself. That was one decision that had taken him drinking a bottle of Jim Beam and a lot of critical self-examination to make. Needless to say, Michael knew about none of this. He could just imagine Michael’s reaction. “You’re doing what?! Have you lost your mind?” He loved his best friend but, at times, he was very, very glad that they were only friends. He knew that Michael would think Justin had tried to brainwash him into something that was the closest thing to a marital commitment that two men in Pittsburgh could legally make. In truth, Brian had thought long and hard, deliberated over facts and feelings, before looking into the agreement and talking to his lawyer.

He tilted his head back, letting the water pelt his face with needle-like precision. As he soaped himself, his fingertips brushed the hairline scar on his sac, a reminder of what he’d lost. Even though he’d paid for a top-of-the-line prosthetic testicle, he still felt less than whole. So much of his identity was tied up in his sexual persona that it was difficult to separate one from the other. It had taken him a long time to accept himself, to make the metamorphosis into the sleek, powerful sexual machine he was. To remind himself that he was not Jack Kinney; that he would never be his father. But, in so doing, there was a large part of Brian that was still left unexplored, untapped potential. So much raw potential to be explored. Michael and Lindsay had just barely tapped the surface. It was Justin who came the closest to getting the real Brian. The person who lived behind the mask, the person behind the arrogance and confidence and charisma.

Justin hadn’t yet seen him naked and Brian didn’t really want him to. At least not yet. It wasn’t so much that Brian minded the naked part. Hell, more than 90% of Gay PA had seen him naked. Justin’s mom had seen him naked. But now it was so much more than simple nudity. It was leaving him in a position where he was very, very vulnerable. Brian didn’t do vulnerability well. At times, he wondered if Jack Kinney was laughing at him. “See, Sonny Boy, you aren’t Mr. High-and-Mighty. You got cancer, just like me. Though it should be AIDS, you fuckin’ fairy. You’re not young anymore. Not perfect.” Brian could practically hear Jack’s voice in his head and smell the ever-present whiskey. “Fuck you! You son of a bitch. You’re dead. You can’t hurt me anymore.” he shouted, hoping the water and closed bathroom door would muffle the words. He hadn’t cried, wouldn’t cry. The closest he’d come to tears was when he woke up in the hospital room in Baltimore, alone. He could do anger and denial. Those were easy emotions, familiar emotions. He hadn’t hit depression yet though he knew that would come. It was why he’d tried to send Justin away. Black moods were just part of the territory. The last time they’d hit him, he’d crawled into a bottle and it had only been because Justin needed him that he’d crawled back out. Now he wondered if they were strong enough to stand together against this thing that was eating away inside him.

Justin looked up from the insurance policy, cocked his head, and then dismissed the sound as unimportant. Silent tears felt hot and scalding, unchecked by him. His tears obscured the words he was supposed to be reading. Most was technical jargon that he figured Brian would end up having to explain. Sign? Justin asked himself. Yeah, I guess I’m gonna sign. It wasn’t the money. He’d never been with Brian for the money. He knew there were more than a few people on Liberty Ave who thought of Brian as his “sugar daddy,” including Lindsay at one point. And Michael. Justin heard the water cut off and picked up the silver Mont Blanc pen to initial where indicated and sign.

With every day that passed, his life and Brian’s were more intertwined. They were becoming inextricably linked, more like Brian-and-Justin than ever before, though each still held there identities intact. He wiped his eyes as he carefully put the policy on the desk they shared. He heard a muttered curse from the direction of the bedroom and saw Brian putting up a struggle with his jeans. It was a struggle the jeans seemed to be winning.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” With each fuck, Brian’s voice increased in volume. He threw the offending garment into the living room, glaring after it as if it were a very annoying insect.

Standing, Justin crossed to the bottom of the stairs, standing there cautiously. Brian had used him as target practice more than once, though Justin tended to give as good as he got. Barely acknowledging his presence, Brian snapped, “What the fuck do you want?” He realized it came out harsher than he intended but he made no effort to lessen the severity of the words.

Completely understanding his lover’s frustration, Justin said, carefully, “Came to see if you needed help. Sorry I bothered.” He knew now was not the time to tell Brian he’d signed the insurance policy. Brian’s hazel eyes flashed with fury. And Justin knew he was on the razor’s edge between fury and melancholia. Fury seemed to be winning out.

“Can’t even put on my fucking jeans,” Brian snarled, his blood pressure lowering a little, though he was still extremely frustrated.

“So wear something else?” Justin suggested, ever the practical one. He conveniently ignored the fact that he took nearly as long as Brian to get dressed when they were heading out to the clubs. So Brian was in full drama queen mode. Lovely, he thought.

“Fuck you.”

Although he could understand the place where Brian was coming from, having been there himself after the bashing, there was a limit to what Justin was willing to take. Brian was rapidly approaching that line. He crossed to the upright dresser and removed a pair of olive green cargo pants. Initially Brian had refused to wear them but once he’d seen how easy it was to get Justin out of them, he’d revised his opinion. “Wear those,” he said, tossing them to Brian.

“I want the jeans,” Brian said, pouting a bit before rolling his bottom lip in. It was an expression Gus wore on occasion when he wasn’t getting his way. Justin wondered briefly who’d taught it to whom or if it was hereditary. Who’s the adult here? He wondered, not for the first time. Brian might have a decade on him but Justin was still the one who was more mature, even if he wasn’t able to control his emotions as tightly as the other man.

“Brian, you can’t wear the fucking jeans. Put those on. I’m going out,” Justin informed him. Before I strangle you.

He heard the huff and, as he started down the stairs, he heard Brian say, “Sorry. Thanks.”

For what? Talking you off the cliff or staying? But he simply said, “Uh huh.” And I’m the infant in this relationship?

“Where do you want to eat?” Brian said, pulling on one of his comfortable black wife-beaters. He seemed to buy them in stock.

Nice segue, Kinney, Justin thought, amused despite himself. It was a good sign that Brian was hungry. Too many times he simply forgot to eat. 

So he smiled as he responded. "Anywhere but the diner." He didn't want to face the gang and Deb with a cranky Brian in tow. He could be worse than Gus. Gus, at least, had an excuse. He was three. Brian was most definitely not three.

"How 'bout the market and then we come back here and hang out? Maybe watch a few movies," he suggested hopefully. Seeing the gang wasn't high on Brian's list of things he wanted to do.

"You just want my egg-white omelet," he teased.

"And the chef," Brian acknowledged with a smirk. 

It amazed him how a simple comment could turn into sexual innuendo with so little effort. It continually amazed him that their sexual chemistry still burned as hotly as it did. But for now, sex was not an option. So whatever fights/arguments/disagreements they had had to be solved without fucking the hell out of each other. He supposed other people would say they were growing up; Brian hoped they weren't getting boring. Boring and predictable was bad. Very bad. He missed makeup sex. Hell, he missed sex period. End of story. Even his hand wasn't useful for release cause it seemed the wind had gone out of his sails. He'd tried to achieve erection through every means possible to no avail. For someone as innately sexual as Brian Kinney this was an untenable situation. The doctors had warned him that his sexual performance might be inhibited for a period of time but he'd ignored them. Now, he wished he hadn't. He returned his focus to the blond standing half-dressed in front of him. There, he thought, that was much better.

"You ready?" Justin asked.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."

Brian snorted. "Uh, Sunshine. Even I'm not into exhibitionism that much." He leered at Justin, eyes lingering at his groin.

Justin looked down, realized his state of undress, and glared at Brian. "You enjoyed that," he accused.

"Kind of," Brian admitted. He always enjoyed the view.

"Asshole," Justin said, as he pulled on an outfit Brian called "starving artist" chic. Justin had reminded him, at the time, that not everyone could afford Armani or Zegna. Brian had snorted, reminding him that he'd grown up with the WASPs of the country-club sort. They'd come to a detente, neither willing to concede.

"Now, now, Sunshine. Someone's cranky."

"Shut up," Justin said, pulling on sneakers. "Now, I'm ready."

Brian simply smirked as they left the loft, earlier harsh words forgotten for the moment.

Meanwhile, at the diner, Emmett, Ted, and Michael were eating breakfast. Hunter had gone on to school, and the professor had gone in early to a faculty breakfast. "So is His Big and Badness going to grace us with his presence this morning?" Emmett asked.

Ted and Michael exchanged glances. They were the only ones to know of Brian's cancer. It wasn't that they didn't trust Emmett not to say anything. Oh yeah, that was exactly it. They loved Emmett but he couldn't keep a secret to save his fucking life. "Uh, I don't think so," Michael responded.

"He hasn't been at the gym much lately," Emmett observed.

Why's he so fucking observant all of a sudden? Michael wondered. Drop it, he willed him.

"Or the baths. In fact, our illustrious Mr. Kinney has been absent quite a lot lately. Teddy, honey, do you know why?"

Ted had just taken a sip of coffee and choked as he tried to swallow. He'd read the email from Brian earlier letting him know that he wasn't coming in to the office. Ted had secretly been happy that Brian was taking care of his body, for once, not abusing it. It couldn't possibly be that he got a rush out of running the office in the absence of Brian and liked the attention Cynthia gave him, even though it was obvious the blonde lusted after Brian. "No, I think he's just busy with Kinnetik. It's really taking a lot out of him. Hard starting a business. You know that, Em."

Just then Debbie swung by, balancing a heavy tray of dishes. "Hey, honey, where's the Fourth Musketeer? And Sunshine?"

Michael suppressed a groan. "Don't know, Ma. Brian doesn't clear his schedule with me. He's entitled to his own life."

"Honey, you feelin' okay?" It wasn't like Michael to acknowledge Brian's right to his own independence. Ergo, something must be wrong.

"Ma, I'm fine," he said. "I've gotta go. New shipment coming in at ten." He tossed a couple of bills on the table and made his escape. Some secret, Brian. It's getting harder not saying anything. Everyone's curious as to why the most fabulous top on Liberty Ave is staying so low-profile. Keep your own fucking secret, Kinney. Sad thing was Michael knew that he wouldn't say anything. He knew Brian had to handle this in his own way, that he didn't want people's perceptions of him to change.

He slammed out of the diner, leaving Emmett, Ted (who knew why Michael was behaving the way he was), and Debbie staring after him, wondering what the hell that was all about.

Brian looked at the grocery cart with a mixture of disbelief and fascination. "What the fuck is all this shit?"

Justin looked at the items his lover was scrutinizing and suppressed a smile. Brian truly looked confused. "Ingredients for hot-and-sour-soup."

An eyebrow arched. "Yes, but why all the rabbit food?"

"It's healthy. The soup will help cleanse your system of any toxins. And vegetables are good for you."

Suddenly Brian paled, unable to keep from wincing with pain. He inhaled sharply. Immediately concerned but not wishing to draw attention from other shoppers, Justin asked, "Do you need to sit?"

Brian shook his head, the sharp pain knifing through him. "This is worse than I thought. Pay for that stuff. I need to go home." And lie down. More and more, he was glad Justin was with him, hadn't bought into the whole "I don't want to see you again" act. Even though he despised needing anyone.

"Brian, you OK?" Stupid question, Taylor, Justin chided himself.

"No," he admitted. "Justin, let's go," he ground out, visibly in pain.

It was then that Brian knew he'd tried to do too much. His body was protesting the strain. He concentrated on remaining standing as they made their way to the front of the market. Handing Justin his wallet, he waited as Justin paid. Once outside, Brian tossed him the keys. "You drive. Quickly." Then he said, "Try not to kill us on the way home." 

He sank down in the passenger side, knowing full well how worried his lover was. He also figured that Justin was just a little pissed off at him. Understandably so, Brian thought. He was glad that Justin concentrated on driving instead of berating him or inquiring into his condition.

It was only when they turned onto Tremont and made their way into the parking garage that Brian spoke dryly, "Well, that was fun, Sunshine."

"Yeah, loads," Justin avoided meeting Brian's eyes. Stubborn fucker. With anger came guilt. Guilt that he hadn't noticed the lump himself, and guilt that he'd allowed Brian to go out when he so clearly wasn't up to the task.

Shit, Brian thought, ignoring the next flash of pain. "Sunshine," he started.

"Don't fucking call me that," Justin snapped. His blue eyes were glacial. "Why the hell do you do that?"

"What? Try to go on without feeling like a fucking invalid? Oh, I don't know. Survival maybe. Or are you talking about me calling you Sunshine?" Brian was angry himself now. He'd learned years ago how to manage the pain, how to hide the pain, and he was damn good at it. At hiding how he really felt. It was rare that people saw the emotions that he kept buried.

Justin sighed. Fighting with Brian wasn't healthy for either of them. He handed Brian the keys and grabbed the few grocery bags. He'd gotten enough to last them the rest of the week. At least, enough so he wouldn't starve. Brian, on the other hand, ate like a bird. Silently they walked to the elevator. There wasn't any way Brian was going to attempt to negotiate the stairs. The tense silence lasted until they reached the loft.

They each headed to neutral and safe areas; Justin to the kitchen, and Brian to the sofa. As he unloaded the groceries, Justin began to cool down. "Bri?"

"Yeah," Brian's voice was husky.

"You hungry?"

"Not really." Code for I'll eat because you asked. "Justin," he said, quietly.

"Yeah," Justin's voice was tentative.

"I need a pain pill. And I can't take it on an empty stomach." It was as close to an apology for behaving like a jackass that he could make. He hoped it'd be enough. Then he said, "This shit makes me moody and grumpy. Don't take it personally." Justin was just the closest target within range, easy to lock on.

"How is that different from how you normally are?" Justin asked, fatigue creeping into his voice. Taking care of Brian was exhausting. 

Brian's head popped up into view. Their eyes met. "If I'm really that bad, why the fuck are you with me?"

Oh hell, Justin thought. "Brian, don't---" he started.

"No, I want an honest answer. No bullshit," Brian said, moving into a more comfortable position on the sofa.

He so didn't want to do this. This was bound to end badly. But Brian had given him an opening. Justin felt the need to go through the opening even if it opened into an abyss.

"Why do you think I'm with you? Maturity, sparkling wit, your amazing sexual prowess?" His words were icy, but the emotion was hot.

"You could have other guys. Hell, you have had other guys. I need to know that you don't just feel sorry for me. There are easier men out there, Justin."

Rolling his eyes, Justin said, "I didn't fall in love with them. I fell in love with you. With Brian Kinney. Cancer's not going to make me walk away from you."

"You have before," Brian reminded himself. Always comes back to the fucking fiddler.

"I thought we weren't going to talk about him. It was a mistake. Brian, it was a big fucking mistake." Please, God, don't let him do this.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't good enough for you then."

Justin crossed the room, blue eyes flaring with rage. "You've always been good enough for me. Sick or healthy, you've always been the ideal."

"I'm no one's ideal."

"Everyone in the back room at Babylon would disagree with you. Do you know how many guys would kill for the chance to be with you?"

"And yet you left." He couldn't hide the plaintive note in his voice and it pissed him off, sounding so goddamn vulnerable.

"Brian," Justin said. "Finding our own way is scarier than doing what's expected. Would you have respected me if I'd stayed, knowing that neither of us was happy?"

"I was happy," Brian said, knowing even as he said it that it was a lie.

"Bullshit. I'm with you because I see the person who lies underneath. I get the real you. I don't think even Michael knows you like I do."

"That's true." Brian said. "But beside the point." It took him a long moment before he said, "I hate being fucking vulnerable. I hate needing someone to take care of me. It's humiliiating to know that you'll be there when I vomit up everything in my stomach. This is not pretty. It's not fun. And it fucking sucks."

"I'm up to the task."

"I've always taken care of everyone else. Lindsay, Michael, Gus---" Fuck, even Melanie. 

"Me," Justin said, finally beginning to understand just where Brian was coming from.

"Yeah," Brian's voice was soft. That one word conveyed so much meaning.

"Remember when I moved in after the bashing?" Justin asked. Brian nodded so he continued, "I'd wake up in the middle of the night, absolutely fucking terrified that Hobbes was standing over me with that bat again. You'd hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay. If I had a migraine that kicked my ass you'd give me one of my pills and wait with me until it kicked in. You know, I measured your heartbeats and that helped me fall asleep."

Brian hadn't known that; he'd simply thought Justin liked falling asleep on his chest. But Justin continued, "I remember waking up in the morning with our legs tangled with the sheets. You never complained but I know you didn't enjoy having your sleep disrupted by my nightmares." Brian had had his own nightmares. "But you did it. And even though we aren't traditional partners, I made a promise. Let me help you, Brian. I love you. I need you to know that. I'm not with you out of pity. I'm with you because I understand you. Even if you frustrate the shit out of me, I understand why you do things the way you do. Even pushing me off a fucking cliff to prove a point."

Brian was quiet for so long Justin thought he'd lost him. Then Brian finally spoke in a voice with all the fight gone out of it. "I need you." God help me, I need you.

"Really?" Justin's tone was skeptical.

Hazel eyes met blue eyes. Brian was relieved to see that some of the warmth had seeped back into Justin's. He spoke quietly, "Sometimes a man needs to know when to ask for help. Sometimes a man needs to take a leap of faith."

Justin inhaled sharply. "I'm not going to drop you."


	4. Acknowledging Fears

Brian scooted over on the sofa and Justin perched next to him. God, how the hell did this happen? Brian wondered. He took it as a good sign that he and Justin were talking things through rather than just shutting down or throwing him out. But he still wondered on occasion what the fuck it was that they were doing together.

Before either of them could say anything to ease the harsh words, the phone rang. Justin stood to get it and Brian spoke quietly, “I don’t want to talk to anyone.” With that, he closed his eyes, a cue that he didn’t want to talk anymore. For once, Justin wasn’t upset. Brian needed to take better care of himself.

“Hello,” he spoke quietly.

“Hey, honey. It’s Mom.”

Justin suppressed a sigh. “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”

He breathed a sigh of relief that it was his mom and not anyone else. Stealing a glance at Brian, he saw it appeared the other man had fallen asleep. Justin smiled, knowing he needed the rest.

“Molly and I were wondering if you and Brian would like to try that new Szechuan place on Congressional. It’s supposed to be great.”

“Uh, I’ll have to ask Brian. He’s really busy with Kinnetik. I’m not sure what his schedule’s like right now,” Justin said, opting for an excuse his mother would not question. “Can I get back to you?”

“Sure, honey. You sure everything’s OK?” Jennifer Taylor was nothing if not observant and tenacious; qualities her son seemed to share.

“Yeah, Mom. Everything’s fine,” Justin said, working hard to keep his voice level. He hadn’t told anyone except Daphne about Brian’s cancer. He wished he could tell his mother and get her insight, but he kept silent out of respect for Brian. 

There was a brief pause and Jennifer wondered at the caution and reticence in her son’s voice. It wouldn’t be the first time Justin had kept something about Brian from her. But she’d learned not to push. “Justin, I love you. I’ll talk to you later.”

Justin sighed as he hung up. He returned to the sofa, to see Brian curled up, like a sleeping lion cub. He made his way up the stairs to the bedroom and retrieved the duvet. Returning to Brian’s side, he covered him up, saying softly, “I love you, Bri.”

It was mid-afternoon when Brian finally stirred, blinking sleepily. He didn’t remember falling asleep. He looked down, saw the duvet, and realized Justin must have covered him up. Brian blinked, scanning the room for his young lover. “Justin,” he said, a raspy quality to his voice.

He stood, a sudden motion that had him sitting down again, as his stomach protested. Taking a deep cleansing breath, he tried again, this time successfully. Turning towards the bedroom, he started to call Justin’s name when he saw him, fast asleep on Brian’s side of their bed. Brian smiled. Seemed the blond was exhausted too. So he retrieved the duvet and walked up the stairs to the bedroom, covering Justin up. Looking down at his sleeping lover, Brian couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride, that this wonderful young man was his, that Justin loved him. 

That week when he’d kicked Justin out had been absolutely miserable for him. He’d nearly cracked several times and the blackness of deep despair had threatened to consume him. If Brian were honest with himself, he’d admit that Justin and Gus were the main reasons he hadn’t taken a bottle of sleeping pills or experimented with scarfing again. It had been three years since Brian had last felt that type of black despair.

“I love you, Sunshine,”he whispered, smoothing an errant strand of blond hair away from Justin’s face. He would say it late at night when he was sure Justin was asleep and he knew there was no danger of Justin hearing him and calling him on it. He didn’t know what it meant that he couldn’t say the words to a conscious Justin, but they’d moved to the point where Brian figured Justin knew how he felt.

He walked into the bathroom, feeling a sudden urge to brush his teeth. He looked at himself in the mirror, seeing a man of thirty-three and it suddenly occurred to him that Justin and he had been together for nearly four years. That thought gave him pause. “Holy fucking Christ,” he said to his reflection. Four years minus the eight months of hell that he never wanted to revisit. Longer than some marriages.

“Brian,” Justin’s voice was soft and tentative, a question in it.

“In here,” Brian said, recapping the toothpaste. He heard Justin untangle himself from the duvet and sheets, then felt him come up beside him. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

A comfortable silence fell between them as Brian brushed his teeth. “So who called?”

“My mom.”

“And, what did Mother Taylor have to say?” Brian inquired. At first, he’d called Jennifer that to annoy her but gradually he’d grown fond of her. Fond enough to actually consider her a mom of sorts. He found amusement and irony, in that.

Justin smiled at his lover. He knew better than anyone just how surprised his mother had been the first time Brian had called her that. They’d come a long way. “She and Molly want us to try that new Szechuan place. I told her you’d have to check your schedule.”

Brian paused. “You haven’t told her.” Surprise was evident in his tone, and a note of something else, something just a bit darker.

Realizing the bathroom was an odd place to have this conversation, Justin suggested, “Why don’t we sit?”

Brian waited until he and Justin were situated comfortably on the pillows, before saying, in a voice that wasn’t quite accusatory, “You didn’t tell your mom, Sunshine.”

Sighed. “No. No, I didn’t.” Brian almost seemed pissed, he reflected.

“So, who have you told?” Brian’s voice was arctic.

“Daphne. And Michael.” It was unclear to him how he’d fucked up. But it was just as clear that he had. “Brian, what’s wrong? Who have you told?”

As Justin watched, Brian pulled the mask back into place, composing his features into an implacable expression. Shit, Justin thought. One step forward, three steps back. He prepared for silence and was shocked when Brian answered, “Ted. And Cynthia.”

“Ted? Ted Schmidt?” Justin couldn’t have been more surprised. Brian didn’t even really like Ted, thought he was a schmuck.

Brian nodded. “Yeah, I freaked out during a couple of staff meetings. Theodore got curious. And Cynthia. Well, Cynthia’s a lot like you, Sunshine.”

Justin wondered if Brian noticed just how many blondes there were in his life: Lindsay, me, Cynthia, and even Deb was blonde. He cocked his head. Yeah, she’s in love with you, Justin thought. On some level, Justin figured Brian knew that and had played upon it at times. “So how did she react?” He redirected his attention.

“She was pissed,” Brian admitted frankly. That was putting it mildly. Cynthia had been furious with him, and it had been a shock to see his ballsy assistant lose her icy composure. “Then she just got really quiet, like it had just hit her.” Like losing me would be such a great loss, Brian thought. 

He looked at Justin. Blue eyes met hazel eyes. It was a moment before Justin spoke. “I didn’t tell Mom because I didn’t think you’d want me to. Bad enough, I accidentally told Michael. I knew you wouldn’t want my mother storming over here armed with homeopathic remedies.”

“So your mom wants us to go to dinner with her and Molly?” Brian adroitly avoided the subject of how his condition had been revealed to Michael and the subsequent consequences.

 

Justin nodded. “Yeah. Are you up for it?” Brian and the fourteen-year-old Molly were quite a fearsome combination. Formidable to say the least.

“I don’t know. I haven’t even told Lindsay yet and she’s the mother of my son. How the hell do I tell your mom?”

Justin would’ve laughed at the expression on Brian’s face were the circumstances not quite so serious. “She likes you, you know. She wouldn’t have agreed to be your realtor and invest in Kinnetik if she didn’t.” They both knew just how much Jennifer Taylor had changed since her divorce from Craig, three years prior. Priorities and values and views had shifted and evolved as had her acceptance of Brian as a part of her son’s life.

Brian remembered how shocked he’d been when Jennifer had called to tell him she was investing $5000 dollars in his fledgling company. She’d claimed it was for Justin but he’d known it was the final acceptance of him. That faith in him seemed to be a Taylor family trait. It was too bad his own family didn’t extend him such loyalty. But Brian had given up on his own blood long ago, seeking comfort and acceptance in an extended family, and later, in Justin.

“Yeah, I know.” And he did. “Maybe the three of us should go to lunch.” Brian really didn’t want to discuss details of the cancer with Molly present. He liked the little girl but there were some things that children shouldn’t know.

Hell has to be freezing over, Justin thought. “Sunshine, your mom deserves to know. It’s amazing how the Taylor family’s grown on me,” he said wryly.

All except for Craig, both men thought. Surprisingly, Justin didn’t really miss his dad. Craig had made his choice and, in the long run, it had cost him his son. “So, Mr. Kinney, when do you want to do this?” Justin asked, putting thoughts of his father out of his mind.

“This weekend.” Then he thought another moment. “You have any idea how I’m going to break this to Lindz?”

Justin knew even if Brian didn’t that, on some deep, hidden level, Lindsay still loved him. That there was a part of Lindsay that would always belong to Brian. Justin figured that was why Melanie had such a problem with Brian. Justin didn’t know exactly what had transpired between the two in college but he did know that they had an unbreakable bond, cemented even further by the fact that they shared a child. He shook his head. That was one problem Brian would have to handle on his own.

“You’re no help,” Brian said, pouting in a way Justin found adorable.

“You’ll think of some way. Just don’t push her off a cliff,” Justin’s words were light but rang with truth. Brian glared at him for a moment. Fucker.

“You hungry?” he asked, knowing even as he did so that it was a stupid question. When was Justin not hungry? The kid was lucky he had such a fast metabolism otherwise he’d be as big as a house and Brian Kinney didn’t do fat.

“Uh, yeah,” Justin said, his response quick. He knew his attempt to make Brian the hot-and-sour soup had been aborted.

“Order what you want. I’m going to call your mom to set up this lunch date.” I didn’t choke on the “d” word, he thought.

“Bri, what are you going to eat?”

Brian took a moment to wonder when Justin had begun abbreviating his name and why it didn’t bother him. Hell, Justin had so many nicknames that it was only fair that Brian have one. Just as long as it wasn’t lesbianic in nature that was all Brian asked. “There’s some of that chicken soup from last night. I don’t think my stomach can handle anything else.” Not exactly fine cuisine.

Before Justin could respond, they heard the buzzer for the downstairs intercom sound. They exchanged a glance and Brian shrugged. He wasn’t expecting anyone and knew Justin wasn’t either. He also knew that Cynthia and Ted would have called if anything major had happened, not just stop by.

Crossing to the intercom, Brian pressed the series of buttons to unlock the downstairs door. He really didn’t feel up to facing anyone and had a sinking feeling in his gut that he was going to wish fervently that he’d ignored this particular visitor. However, he was also keenly aware that most of his visitors had an annoying tendency to hang around if they were ignored. There were moments Brian wished that the loft wasn’t considered Destination # 1 for every fag in Pittsburgh, listed in the guidebook. He sighed and looked back at Justin who shrugged. “Wonder who the fuck this is,” Brian thought as he waited for the elevator to make its way up to the sixth floor.


	5. Acknowledging Fears

Brian slid the loft door open to reveal two people coming off the elevator. It was obvious from the tension radiating from him that something was wrong. Justin had turned to return to the bedroom but stopped short when he heard Brian’s snarled, “What the fuck are you two doing here?”

The two idiots from the Gay & Lesbian center would have been greeted with more grace, Justin thought, as he rejoined Brian. There could not have been two people less likely to be together. Justin’s eyes fell upon his ex-lover, Ethan Gold, and then on Claire. Oh shit. This is beyond not good. Way beyond not good. My ex and Brian’s cunt sister.

It was his ex who spoke first, looking as if he’d just entered the gates of hell, ready to be consumed by flames. “Justin, I just---”

“Hello, Brian.” Claire’s voice was arctic.

In typical Kinney fashion, Brian stepped aside, resigned to having two people he loathed in the loft. Justin glanced at Brian and knew it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. “Claire,” Brian’s voice was equally icy. What’s next, he wondered? A visit from Chris Hobbs or Craig Taylor. He was beginning to feel like shit again. “Ian,” his voice could have chilled a martini.

“Ethan. My name is Ethan,” the musician spoke quietly. He was actually quite proud of himself, that his voice didn’t quake. Brian Kinney intimidated the hell out of him. And it wasn’t just because he had Justin.

Justin braced himself for the explosion but Brian said only, “I’m aware of what your fucking name is. Do I need to remind you that you’re in my home, Paganini?”

It was then that Claire jumped in. “You must excuse my younger brother. He’s usually not so rude.”

No, Justin thought. He was actually quite proud of Brian. He’d expected Brian to bodily eject Ethan from the loft. But this was Brian trying to maintain control of a situation that was likely to turn real ugly real fast. Brian’s eyes were glowing like agates, proof positive of his rage. Brian’s eyes shifted a degree in color when he was angry or aroused. Justin knew he was beyond pissed.

Unsure of how to diffuse the situation but knowing it needed to be done before blood was shed, Justin spoke quietly to his ex-lover, “Why don’t we get a cup of coffee, Ethan?”

Before Ethan had the opportunity to answer, Brian said, “No, stay. We’re all just one big happy fucking family.” Then in an arid voice, “Claire, what the fuck do you want? I haven’t been near your demon spawn in nearly a year. Is Mom in rehab?” Hey, a guy can hope.

Claire looked at her younger brother, wondering when he’d grown so cold and unfeeling. But she knew she bore some responsibility for their dysfunctional relationship. She’d been around when Jack Kinney decided to light into his son for some perceived slight, real or imagined. “Brian, I didn’t come here to fight or for money.”

“Uh huh,” Brian said. It was clear he didn’t believe that. He turned to Ethan. “So why the fuck are you here?”

“I came to talk to Justin. Not you.”

Brian was amazed that Ethan had the balls to stand up to him. “So talk. What’s stopping you?”

“You, Kinney.”

Justin closed his eyes. Ethan, what the fuck are you doing? Brian could bend you in two. But he was startled to hear Brian laugh. “I knew he’d come crawling back to you. That you wanted him back.”

“There was no crawling involved. Just no violin music,” Brian said. He exchanged glances with Justin. “Isn’t it that you weren’t what he wanted? You did cheat on him, correct?”

Ethan flinched but recovered quickly enough. “You’re just a fabulous fuck. But you’ll never give Justin what he really needs.”

“Stop,” Justin hissed. This was like watching a train wreck. He knew that this was going to be bad and that his partner had forgotten his sister was there.

“What’s that? Fucking him until he screams my name? Rimming him until he’s incoherent, wanting my tongue to fuck his ass? Falling asleep with me still inside him. Did you get that, Paganini? Did he do that for you? Did he want you to fuck him raw?”

Justin struggled to control his breathing. Brian, what the fuck are you doing?

“I never fucked him, Brian.” Ethan’s words were quiet. “He always fucked me. And you were always in his dreams. Those times I woke up and the sheets were damp, it was you he was thinking of. I knew that. I knew that when he jacked off it was you he was thinking about. I had him for a short period of time. You had his heart.”

“You should go, Ethan,” Justin said. This wasn’t what he wanted Brian to know.

Ethan started to protest but Justin said only, “You need to go, Ethan. I’ll talk to you later.”

Brian turned to him and said, “You never let him fuck you, Sunshine?”

Justin shook his head, forgetting Claire was still in the room. “You’re the only person I bottom for, Brian. With everyone else I’m a top.”

“So your ass really is mine, Sunshine?”

At that, Claire coughed and Justin watched the door close behind Ethan. Brian turned to his sister. “What are you doing here, Claire?”

Recognizing that Brian was at the end of his patience, Claire asked, “Why were you at the oncology center two days ago? Are you sick?”

Justin’s eyes snapped to Brian, whose face was darkening. Claire’s eyes narrowed, a look that reminded Justin of their mother. “This is a private conversation,” she spat. “Between family.”

Justin smiled sadly. He had claws too and he had no problem extending them when it came to protecting and defending Brian. “Some family you are. Accusing him of molesting his own nephew. You really are a cunt.”

“Brian,” she protested.

He put his hands up, as if to say that this was out of his hands. Claire hissed, “Who the fuck are you?” Brian bit back a smile. It was nice seeing someone else stand up to Claire for a change. Justin was holding his own. “My brother’s latest trick?” She turned to Brian. “I thought you tossed them out of bed the moment you were done.”

“Yes, well this one came up one night and has never gone away. What’re you going to do?” Brian said. He was actually enjoying this. Justin smiled at him, taking a moment to wonder just how much Claire actually knew about Brian’s life.

“No, I’m the guy he fucks more than once,” Justin said, realizing he was using his own words to respond to Claire. “I’m not a trick.”

“You’re kind of young, aren’t you?”

“Fuck you, Claire. I’m not a pederast.” Brian said, angrily.

“How old are you?” she asked curiously.

“Twenty-one. I was seventeen when I met Brian.”

“Jesus Christ, Brian. Seventeen? Don’t you have any decency?”

“Fuck you, Claire. Seventeen is legal in Pennsylvania.”

“So you’re what, a fuck buddy?”

Brian had had enough of his sister. His tone turned menacing, “He’s my partner, Claire. Don’t ever fucking speak to him like that again.”

“Brian----” She started. “I thought you didn’t believe in commitment. Especially after seeing Mom and Daddy’s marriage.”

“Claire, why are you here?” he repeated, growing tired of the same old refrain. “I don’t believe in commitment or marriage but I do believe in me and Justin. It’s the only real thing in my life. It’s really none of your fucking business why I was there.”

God, he really is sick, she thought. Daddy thought it’d be AIDS. “What kind? Lung or liver?” Like him or not, he was still her younger brother. Still blood. That meant something and she did feel bad for believing the worst about him.

Brian looked at Justin, then reached for his hand, gaining a small measure of strength from the small gesture. He still felt it was none of her business but he knew Claire. Claire would keep digging and then she’d bring his mother into it. This really was none of that ice cold bitch’s business. He sighed deeply before answering, “Testicular.” Paused to let that sink in before adding, “They removed one of my balls, Claire. Happy now?”

She’d gone white. “Brian, I’m---”

“What, Claire? Sorry? I thought you’d see it as justice.” Brian’s fingers laced with Justin’s. “That I deserve this for fucking guys.”

“Brian, no. You’re my brother. I love you.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Justin interjected. He really despised this woman.

Claire focused her attention on him and then recognition dawned. “You’re the young man who came to my house with that cop to get Brian’s bracelet back.”

“Ding ding ding. Give the lady a prize.”

Brian bit back a smile. Justin really had picked up on some of his mannerisms and attitudes. “You two weren’t together then, were you?”

“No,” Justin replied reluctantly. He’d often wondered how differently things would have turned out if he’d simply stayed when he returned the bracelet. He'd looked into Brian's eyes and if he'd said word one he'd have stayed, Ethan be damned. But of course Brian hadn't and he'd been forced to find his way back to Brian on his own.

“So why’d you care?”

Justin looked at Claire, measuring her up. “Because I love him. No matter what shit we’re going through, I love him. I have faith in him and I trust him. Can you say the same?”

Brian snorted. “You love me?” He looked directly at Claire, fingers tightening on Justin’s. “That’s a fucking joke. You believed I molested your son. You never even asked me. I found the little shit stealing money out of my wallet. You worshipped a man who beat the shit out of me for simply breathing. Where the hell were you when he laid my ass raw with a cat o’nine tails with metal tipped ends? A fucking cat, Claire. I couldn’t sit down for a week and he called me a sissy boy. I’m lucky I didn’t scar. So don’t tell me you love me. I’ll never ever believe it. Where were you when I had to get him inside when he was so drunk he’d passed out on the front stoop. Where were you when I had to get him inside without waking him up because I knew if he woke up, he’d beat the shit out of me? Where the hell were you when he came to me needing money when he was short and had drunk half his paycheck? I’ve been here for this fucking family. I gave money to Pop when it was so lean I didn't know how I was going to pay the monthly maintenance fee on the loft. I was there for you when you needed to get that lump removed from your breast. I gave you the money when you had to get the hysterectomy because of an ovarian cyst the size of a grapefruit. I paid for Pop’s burial. I know the importance of blood, Claire Colleen. Do you?” he asked. “How the hell did you even know I was visiting the oncology center?” he finally exploded.

Justin heard the words and it sank in a little deeper just how raw Brian was, how the strength covered up the fragility and insecurity of a young boy who had received no love from his family. But he knew Brian would be furious if he sensed pity or compassion.

“I saw the Corvette there twice last week.” She said, quietly. She was still reeling from the shock of hearing her brother air the family laundry in front of a near stranger.

“So you decided to ask some questions. Why Claire, a person might think you actually give a shit about what happens to me.” The words were meant to wound and she flinched, letting Brian know he’d hit his target.

“I do care about you. You’re still my baby brother.”

“No, I’m not. Claire, I’m a man who remembers things just a little clearer than you. You want my money, Claire. You won’t get it. Not one red fucking cent.” Brian finished the last with a cough and a tired sigh. He was exhausted. He hated dealing with family. Especially his.

Claire was quietly sobbing and Justin glanced at Brian. The mask was firmly back in place, the man’s face devoid of expression. “You need to go, Claire,” he said quietly. 

She turned to look at Brian then nodded mutely. She rose, unsteady as a drunk. It was a tense moment before Brian spoke, “Oh, Claire. Do not tell Mom. She does not need to know.”

Justin followed Claire to the door, sliding it open for her. He was surprised when she chose to speak to him. “You love him, don’t you?”

“Yes, I love him. I’ve loved him since the moment I saw him.”

“It hasn’t been easy for you two, has it?” It was less a question than a statement of fact.

“No, but nothing between Brian and me has ever been easy. But all relationships take work.”

“Justin, right?” she asked. He nodded. “I knew you loved him when you came to my house with that cop. Take care of him. He’s still my baby brother even if he hates me. He needs you even if he won’t admit it. I’m sorry about some of the things I said.”

“I’m used to it. Brian and I are used to people not understanding our relationship. But it’s ours.”

She nodded, sniffling a bit. But he closed the door behind her. He turned to slowly face Brian. Left alone with the wounded lion at last, he thought. Yippee. This ought to be fun, he thought.


	6. Acknowledging Fears

Justin turned back to face Brian and suppressed a groan. This was not going to be fun, regardless of the fact that he thought it had actually gone well despite Ethan revealing details of their sex life he’d have preferred remained untold and Claire’s visit. There were reasons he and Brian didn’t talk about Ethan; it wasn’t just because it could alter Brian’s mood for hours if not days. Lost in his own thoughts, Justin almost didn’t hear Brian. 

“You been talking to him?” He couldn’t quite disguise the note of jealousy in his voice and that irritated him. Irritated him that the cocky, young musician could make him feel as if he were standing on shifting stands even though he knew, he knew, that Justin wasn’t going anywhere. That when Justin had come back and they’d started again, that this time it was different. They were both different. 

“No.”

“No?” Incredulity warred with sarcasm. It was patently obvious that Brian didn’t believe him, though Justin couldn’t really blame him, he had thought they’d gotten past this.

Brian’s back was turned so Justin couldn’t see his face. It was a pose Brian adopted when he was feeling something and didn’t want Justin to know what it was. Justin remembered how often Brian had hidden his face from him in the early days after the bashing when he’d first moved back in with the man. 

“I haven’t been talking to him, Brian. I didn’t know he was back in Pittsburgh.” Too late Justin realized his mistake. Fuck, he said to himself.

“Back from where?” Brian’s voice was low and controlled, dangerous. This hurt, Sunshine. This fucking hurt, Sunshine. It wasn’t even that he was jealous though he knew that was a part of it. You’re mine, dammit! He was aware of the provincial nature of his attitude. But on some primal level, Brian felt that way. Felt that Justin had been his, marked for his influence, since the night he’d seen him under the lamp on Liberty Avenue. 

“Europe. It’s where he’s been the last ten months, touring and promoting his CD,” Justin said. He didn’t really want to be around Brian when he was like this. He was more dangerous when he was quietly angry than when his anger burned hot like it had after the break-in. Figuring he knew what Brian’s next question or accusation would be, he said, “He’s sent me a few emails.” Two of which were pleas to resume our relationship which I shot down. Cause even when things aren’t great between us, Brian, I’m still yours. And I would never have gone back to Ethan.

“How many is a few?” 

“Three. Brian, I never encouraged him. I made it clear that you and I were back together.”

“Bet he loved that.” Wished he could have seen Ian’s reaction when he learned that Justin and I were back together, that we’d rekindled the passion and the torch, burning hotter than ever before.

“I can’t believe you’re actually jealous of him. You have nothing to worry about.” Brian was right about Ethan’s reaction. He’d accused Justin of selling out, not understanding that his relationship with Justin had been the sellout. That had been selling out what he’d had with Brian.

“Maybe not but you were the one who left before,” Brian cringed, realizing how weak he sounded. He fucking hated discussing this emotional baggage shit. He thought he was OK with how he and Justin had resurrected their relationship. But Ian still made him feel insecure.

It always circled back to Justin’s mistake, to Justin’s betrayal. Despite their resolution to never discuss the interlude with the violinist, Justin knew and accepted that Brian would always doubt him on some subatomic level. “I came back. I meant what I said in your office that night. You’ve got to forgive me. You’ve got to trust me. I can’t believe we’re heading back there again.” Justin realized how much he sounded like Carrie in Sex and the City when she’d broken it off with Aidan again. Somehow he always seemed to have the female response to things whereas Brian was almost clinically detached, emotionless. Especially when the emotion ran deep. “I’m going to go. Maybe Daphne and I will catch a movie.” Before I make an ass out of myself. Or say something I can’t take back.

He hadn’t really expected a response from Brian but he’d hoped for one. Then he heard Brian say, in a cold voice, “Run, little boy, run. Go after him.”

Justin hadn’t felt this kind of rage emanate from Brian since before the end of their relationship when he’d returned and he and Brian had come together intensely. Then Brian had pushed him away saying, “You stink. Go take a shower.” Justin was determined that Brian wouldn’t do that again. That he wouldn’t throw away whatever it was that they were building because of some fucking mistake he’d made when he was scared shitless that Brian didn’t feel anything. He knew it was naïve and insecure of him to have left. So he wasn’t going to just walk out the door or be pushed off a cliff again.

“Fuck you, Brian.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Brian stand and make his way over to the drink cart. 

Justin supposed he should be grateful it was Beam and not a few lines of coke. He knew that wasn’t fair because Brian had cut down substantially on his drug use. Justin wondered how much of that was due to the regimen of medication he had to take for the cancer, and how much was by choice. He had no desire to watch his lover’s self-destructive behavior. He heard the familiar sound of bottle clinking against glass. “What’s that going to help?” he asked, standing so close he could feel Brian trembling. Then he jumped as Brian threw a half-empty bottle of vodka at the far wall where it shattered with a very satisfying sound. He knew Brian would be frustrated when he realized that he was going to have to clean it up. It appeared that Brian was channeling Jack Kinney.

Every instinct he had was telling him to run but Brian had never been violent towards him outside of their brief foray into rough sexual play. Even when he’d been hanging around that fucking asshole Cody, Brian had anticipated and accepted Justin’s mood swings and need for physical expression. “Brian, is that really going to help?”

Brian set the glass down on the window ledge with a thud and turned to face Justin. Justin could tell the mask had slipped a little bit. “What are you still doing here?” Thank God. I need you tonight. Need you to make me feel loved. Christ, when did that happen? When did I begin to need you?

“Asking myself that same question,” Justin answered honestly. He decided to shift tactics. He knew what Brian was trying to do and was equally as determined that it wasn’t going to work. This time he wasn’t going to jump off a cliff or leave him just because things weren’t going the way he wanted them to. He refused to let Brian push him away because he was in pain from dealing with his sister.

Brian stood there, silent as a statue. He knew Justin was right. Getting drunk wouldn’t fix anything but it was one of his favorite forms of pain management. He really wanted to go out to Babylon or the baths and fuck some anonymous trick but couldn’t. It sucked, and not in a positive life-affirming way, that he couldn’t have sex. That his body wasn’t physically able to engage in one of his favorite activities. There were times when he wondered if he was like Christian, that plastic surgeon asshole on Nip/Tuck, who seemed to be a sex addict. Then he dismissed it. Brian was self-aware enough to realize the similarities between himself and Christian, the primary difference being that Brian fucked guys. He’d give anything to fuck Justin senseless like he had after Stockwell and Gardner had paid their little visit. Or in New York. There were some memories that still had the ability to make him hard. Now instead of having sex, he was forced to talk. Talk. Christ, how the mighty have fallen.

Justin was aware of how easy it would be to just walk out and let Brian cool down on his own. But he felt that was a chicken shit move because Brian needed him even if he was loathe to admit it. So gathering his resolve, Justin decided to call Brian’s bluff and shift Brian’s focus. So Justin crossed into Brian’s line of sight, saw Brian’s eyes go dark. He gently began to push the soft grey drawstring pants down off over his hips, revealing the blonde thatch of hair and his dick. He heard Brian hiss. Justin suppressed a smile; there were benefits to going commando, and when he was spending time with Brian, it was rare for him to wear a jock. “You want to punish me, don’t you? You want to punish me for caring about another. Punish me for leaving you. I’m not going anywhere, baby. I’m on to you, remember?”

Brian’s eyes closed as he remembered the lazy Sunday afternoons they’d spent with Justin sitting astride him on the leather chaise, feeding each other vanilla ice cream. With the image fresh in his mind, a sound which was a cross between a growl and a scream was torn from Brian’s throat. The sound was raw and primal in its intensity. “Go,” he ground out. “Go, Justin.” This was so unfair. This kind of teasing was unfair and Brian had forgotten that Justin had learned the art of sexual teasing from him, the self-professed master. The libertine of Liberty Avenue. 

Justin had never seen Brian like this and it was close to the front of his mind, that he was playing a dangerous game in that Brian couldn’t exactly reciprocate at the moment. That he was teasing a lion. That he was Simba to Brian’s Mufasa and that turnabout was fair play. He stepped closer to him, so that he could smell the whiskey on Brian’s breath along with spearmint gum, and said, “No.” 

Then, he slipped the t-shirt off over his head, the platinum bar in his nipple glinting in the late afternoon sun. Ethan had never really liked the ring in Justin’s nipple but it had driven Brian mad. Wild enough that he’d bought Justin the platinum bar. Brian loved tugging on it during sex, loved sucking on his nipple with the bar piercing it. “It’s me you want to punish, isn’t it? Me, you want. You want me to be yours again. All yours.” Justin remembered the events of an afternoon early after their reconciliation when Brian had gotten it into his head that he wanted to watch Justin jacking him off. Brian had been so close and then he’d insisted on coming on his ass, marking him as his. Brian had carefully aimed so that Justin’s perfect bubble butt was painted with creamy lines of his jizz. It had led to Brian licking it off him, then rimming him until he had begged Brian to fuck him, harder and faster. 

Justin knew Brian had just been fucking with Ethan’s head but there was some truth to what he’d said. Brian was still the only man he’d want to fuck him raw. It had felt disloyal somehow to let Ethan fuck him. To Brian. So he hadn’t, simply insisted on fucking Ethan. He hadn’t analyzed that too closely. He didn’t figure it was a healthy perspective. Looking back upon that decision, Justin figured he should have known then that the relationship with Ethan was just a stopgap measure. That he still loved Brian. Probably always would. Cause he was like a wolf and didn’t wolves mate for life? Whereas Brian was very much the lion, the solitary hunter with many sexual partners, but only one mate. If only he'd admit it.

Justin came back to himself when Brian said, in a low voice coarsened with desire, “Yes.” His eyes took in the sight of the very naked Justin. His own Playgirl centerfold come to life. Keeping that image in focus he slowly began to ground himself. He hated, fucking hated, the fiddler and the fact that having Justin was out of the question for the moment. Goddamn cancer. His eyes were drawn to Justin’s dick which had lengthened and grown hard during the encounter. “You’re hard,” he said, breathing shallow. There was an answering tug in his groin but Brian knew from experience, painful experience, that it wouldn’t last long enough for either of them to get anything out of it. But when he could sustain an erection, Justin would regret teasing him in this manner. That Brian was sure of. “Sunshine, you’re not fighting fair.”

Justin looked at him and said, “Brian, you’re the only one who can get me this hard, this fast. Only you. You are the only one who can make me have a spontaneous orgasm.” Never Ethan. Not any of the tricks in the backroom either. It wasn’t rational what Brian brought out in him.

“Right now, I want to fuck you until you pass out screaming my name, but I can’t,” Brian growled, frustrated beyond belief.

“This is for you, Brian. Tell me what you want to do to me,” Justin said his voice a seductive purr. I want you to fuck me. I want you to mark me. I want you to feel like the god you are. But Justin knew it would take time for Brian’s body to heal itself enough to feel up to it. He knew that not being able to fuck was like removing one of Brian’s limbs.

“I want to fuck your tight ass with my nine-and-a half inch dick,” Brian said, voice raspy. “Watch you ride me. Have you shoot on my chest.”

“What else?” Seductive purr. 

Fucker.

He was fully aware of what he was doing to Brian.

Before answering, Brian pointed to the loft door. “Lock it.” He had no desire for anymore unwelcome visitors. Then he gestured to the phone and answering machine, waiting as Justin turned them off. He said, softly, as he realized what Justin had called him earlier, “You called me baby.”

Brian saw him immediately tense as if expecting a blow. The only endearments Brian used were Sunshine and Sonny Boy; honey was delivered in a high falsetto that let you know just what Brian really thought of that term. “Baby” would be too nelly for Brian, Justin realized. It hadn’t been planned. “Yeah, I’m---” He started to say sorry then his baby blues met Brian’s eyes.

Brian smiled ruefully. Seemed the young cub had learned a little too well from the master. He knew that he had to make sure Justin knew he wasn’t pissed. “It’s okay, Sonny Boy. I didn’t mind. Too much,” he said. He went on to say, “Just don’t say it in public, okay.”

Justin nodded. Brian smiled mischievously. Even if he couldn’t get hard--- Christ, did I just think that? He knew he and Justin could have fun. Brian knew how talented his tongue was and loved eating Justin out, loved the sounds Justin made when he replaced his tongue with his finger and attacked his prostate. But there was something about fucking Justin that did something to Brian that couldn’t be defined. Brian sighed. 

He looked up and realized Justin had disappeared into the bedroom. He stood at the top of the stairs looking at his young lover, lying supine on the bed. “Brian,” Justin said a tentative note in his voice. He adjusted himself on the bed. He paused when he realized Brian was still fully clothed. And it was then that Justin began to comprehend just what a mean thing he’d done to Brian. That this had to be sheer unadulterated agony for him. Justin looked down at himself and realized he wasn’t as hard as he’d been only moments before. It seemed Brian had just come to the same conclusion. He watched Brian look down then back at Justin. Brian sighed and shook his head. Just wasn’t happening. Too soon, he thought.

“I can’t,” he admitted. “Maybe you should go to the baths or the backroom. Get a blow job. Fuck some twinkie.” Brian hated making that suggestion, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay hard long enough to fuck Justin the way he wanted. Not for the first time he wished his pride hadn’t prevented him from refusing the doctor’s prescription for Viagra that had been offered to him. He remembered the last time he’d popped Viagra. He had fucked Justin for hours, causing the then-teen to walk bowlegged for days afterward. Ah yes, the good ole days, he thought bitterly. What the hell am I supposed to do?

Justin shook his head but didn’t say anything. Words could only make this worse. He didn’t want some twinkie, it was Brian he wanted, not some nameless trick. He wanted to ride Brian until they were both incoherent. Before the cancer, they’d been fucking face to face more often than not. It was more intimate than when Brian took him from behind as he did in the backroom. Justin had wondered at the shift but knew Brian wouldn’t admit it was because he preferred to look at Justin as he came, to feel that deep intense emotional connection as well as physical.

He clambered off the bed, stalking naked into the bathroom, erection leading the way. He closed the door behind him, leaving Brian behind to stare at the closed door with something approaching guilt. He couldn’t muster up any anger towards Brian because they were both suffering. Hell, Justin was forced to jack off and Brian would have a case of terminal blue balls. Ouch, Justin winced at the thought. Then he turned on the water in the shower. It had been a long time since he’d been forced to jack off in the shower alone. He imagined Brian fucking him raw; it was his favorite fantasy. Imagined himself kneeling on all fours with Brian behind him, lapping up the cum, tongue bathing his hole, darting in and out with varying intensity, attacking his prostate. He stroked his shaft more furiously until he shot, his spunk whirling away down the drain. He felt the unmistakable prickle of tears but knew that was ridiculous. How many years had he waited for an adult relationship with Brian? A relationship that wasn’t based solely on sex, a relationship with more dimensions than just carnality. And now, that was all he wanted. He wanted the sex back but more importantly he wanted Brian back, whole and healthy. And his. He sighed as he turned off the water, opened the shower door, and reached for one of the fluffy bath towels.

Wrapping one around his waist, Justin looked at his reflection in the steamy mirror. Like Brian had earlier that day, Justin pondered the realization that he and Brian had been together for roughly four years. It seemed like only yesterday that he’d been that young, naïve twink standing on a corner of Liberty Avenue waiting for his life to begin. When a tall, handsome man had stopped getting in his jeep and his life had begun with the words, “You going anyplace special? I can change that.” And Brian had. His life had turned out so differently. Strange what role destiny can play. And Justin had known since the very beginning that Brian Aidan Kinney was his destiny even if Brian had fought it.

“Justin,” Brian’s voice sounded as if it came from inside a wind tunnel. 

Justin opened the door to find a dejected looking Brian sitting on the bed. “This isn’t goddamn fair, Justin. I know that. If you need to trick, trick.”

Justin crossed to the upright dresser and removed another pair of grey sweatpants. Brian teased him mercifully about his college boy taste in clothes but it was all about comfort. He always felt like Armani or D & G should be framed, not worn. Though Brian wore them as perfectly as if they’d been designed for him.

“It’s OK. It’ll just take time. I get that.” Justin remembered how understanding Brian had been after he’d been bashed, when he shied away from even the gentlest of touches. Brian had been patient and Justin would forever remember the night of Gus’s first birthday party as the night they’d first made love as a transcendent experience. He was willing to wait for Brian.

Justin knelt behind Brian, wrapping his arms around his lover’s midsection, feeling Brian relax against him. He kissed Brian’s shoulder. “It won’t kill me to jack off. And there’s other stuff we can do,” Justin said, a gleam in his eye as he thought of Brian’s toy chest, thought of the anal beads and ten-inch dildo and the vibrating butt plug. The handcuffs. Oh my!

“Yeah, I guess,” Brian said, sounding less than thrilled. Toys were highly overrated in his opinion. He wanted to fuck Justin tonight, make an imprint, and wipe away thoughts of Ian ever touching the beautiful alabaster body that was his in so many ways.

Justin tugged on him until Brian was reclining, head in his lap, feet firmly planted on the ground. It wasn’t something Brian allowed himself to do often. He could count on both hands the number of times he’d leaned against Justin or fallen asleep on him. He was always worried he’d smother him but sometimes he needed that necessary closeness. Needed to smell Justin’s clean scent. Needed to know he was loved.

“You jacked off in the shower, didn’t you?” Even through the clean scent of the cucumber melon bath gel he could smell the lingering scent of semen.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. This sucks.”

Justin ran his fingers through Brian’s hair, the other hand reaching for Brian’s, relieved when Brian’s fingers laced with his. Brian took a long moment to relish the attention, hating that he’d needed it and knowing that he was relieved that Justin hadn’t walked out the door after Claire and the fiddler. What a fucking fiasco. “I didn’t want him here. I wanted to kick his smarmy, smug little ass.” And Claire’s.

“I understand. Brian, I would never have invited him here.” I wouldn’t do that to you. Wouldn’t hurt you again for the world.

“I know.” The mere thought of the fiddler and Justin together drove Brian far beyond rational thought. Brian knew that. But the fact remained that the violin player wouldn’t have stopped by the loft, risking Brian’s considerable wrath, without good reason. And it had to be something important which made Brian’s blood run cold. Logical, cold mind flipping through the various things it could be. “You need to talk to him,” Brian simply stated.

“You OK with that?”

Brian sighed deeply, nestling deeper against Justin. “No, but it’s something you need to do. Have to admit it took balls for him to come here. I’m not happy about that.”

“I never thought he’d have the nerve to show up here. I told him not to.” Justin remembered the nights he and Ethan had fought about Brian, about the place the charismatic and sexy ad executive still had in his life. Ethan hadn’t understood that Brian would always be in his life in one way or another.

“Afraid he’d get hurt?”

“No. Afraid you’d end up in a cell on assault and battery charges.” Justin said, smirking.

Brian smiled. “Why, Sunshine, I do believe you care,” he drawled in a lazy Southern drawl cross-married with an Irish brogue.

“Asshole.” The insult was said fondly.

“Twat.”

Then Brian turned more serious, “I have a doctor’s appointment in a week. Can you free up your schedule? I probably won’t be able to drive home. The radiation kicks my ass. You’d think after all the shit I’ve pumped through my system over the years: the E, the special K, and the coke, that I’d be able to handle this.”

Justin smiled. Trust Brian to spin it to his own advantage. He was fully aware of the import of what Brian was asking of him. He also knew that Brian would be pissed if he overreacted to the request. So he simply said, “Yeah, I can.”

“Thank you,” Brian said, shifting so that he was lying on the bed, and not on Justin. Justin let him go sensing he needed the separation. “I’m so fucking tired, Sunshine. If you want to go out for a while, I’ll be okay. Just planning on sleeping.” It wasn’t that he was trying to get rid of the kid, he just wanted him to have options other than standing sentinel over a sick lover. This was why he’d wanted Justin gone, Brian admitted. He hated anyone seeing him vulnerable especially Justin.

“Good here. Maybe I’ll try to read Atlas Shrugged again.” The classic novel by Ayn Rand was one of Brian’s favorites. Justin had tried to read it over the years but had always put it down in frustration. There were pages that were dog-eared and scribbled notes that gave him further insight into his partner’s mind.

“Who is John Galt?” Brian asked, sleepily. He knew the book intimately.

Justin could only laugh as he watched Brian slip further into sleep. Things would be okay, he hoped. The cancer was gone. He’d go through radiation and then he and Brian would be back to normal. Or whatever passed for normal between them. Justin had to have that hope or else he’d be despondent. His greatest fear was losing Brian. Would things be okay between them?


	7. Acknowledging Fears

When Brian awoke an hour later, groggy and still feeling vaguely horny, he knew almost immediately that he was alone. He padded barefoot into the kitchen and found the note on the kitchen counter.

B,

Gone to Daphne’s for a while. Thought we’d watch Velvet Goldmine. I know how much you love Ewan. Rode the bus. Be back soon.

J

Brian smiled. He walked over to his desk, figuring he’d get some work done as he’d done nothing that day that could remotely construe anything lucrative. He sifted through some papers, then realized the insurance policy was on top. In all the confusion between leaving the grocery store early and the confrontation with Claire he’d forgotten about it. He figured Justin would have some questions about some of the legal terminology. As he flipped through it, he was startled to see Justin’s initials and signature in all the necessary places. This had to be a big deal for him, Brian realized. Most twenty-year-olds didn’t have to deal with a life insurance policy. And I was a fucking asshole for most of the day. A smile crossed his face as he remembered Justin’s strip tease. Not many things were hotter than his blond. His reflections were cut short by the phone ringing.

“Kinney,” he snapped before realizing how abrupt he sounded. Taking it down a notch, he said, “Hello.” He rooted around on the desk, finally finding a crumpled pack of cigarettes. He’d cut down on smoking. Testicular cancer was one thing but he didn’t want to compound it with lung or mouth cancer. There were so many things to do with your mouth and having it rot wasn’t on Brian’s agenda. But it was one of the few vices he still held on to.

He was somewhat relieved to find it was Lindsay and not Michael. He’d have been even happier if it were Justin telling him he was coming home. He needed to talk to the blond.

“Hey, Lindz. What’s up?”

Cutting right to the chase, the blonde said, “Why are you at home, Bri? What’s wrong?” She’d called the office and had been surprised when Cynthia had informed her that he hadn’t been in all day. That had sent danger warnings up around her and, since they were busy at the gallery setting up for the Sam Auerbach showing, she couldn’t pay a visit to the loft. So she’d done the next best thing: called him at home. 

Brian heaved an inward sigh. At times, he wished Lindsay couldn’t read him quite so well. But her intuitive knowledge of him had made her a good friend on more than one occasion. There was only so much of his bullshit she was willing to buy. “Can’t a guy take a day off?”

Lindsay took a seat at her desk and rolled her eyes upward. Always with the charm. “Of course, but you’ve been back from Ibiza less than a month. What’s up, Brian?” It wasn’t like him to take a personal day off when he worked with Ryder or with Vance. It was even less in character now that he owned his own business.

He started to snap back at her, then it suddenly hit him that she still thought he’d gone to Ibiza. He remembered their conversation from the day before and knew that this conversation wasn’t going to wait until the weekend. Lindsay would keep pressing him. “Why don’t you and Gus come by after work? You guys can have dinner here and I can see Sonny Boy.” With the cancer and the changing landscape of his relationship with Justin, Brian had come to the realization that he wanted to be more than a drop-in dad to Gus. He’d never forgotten Michael’s accusation that he wanted to be a better dad than Brian. That had hurt. It had hurt even more coming from his best friend. 

“What about Mel?”

Brian bit the inside of his cheek to keep from a snarky comment. He’d deal with Melanie later. Lindsay deserved to hear the news from him alone and quite frankly he wasn’t up to facing the petite brunette. If he knew Melanie, she’d take his other ball. As if this diagnosis was his fault. “Just us, Lindz.”

“Brian,” she whined. It was a most unattractive sound.

He winced. When the blonde did that, he found himself giving in and doing things he wouldn’t ordinarily do, like agree to be a sperm donor for her and her partner. It still boggled his mind that he, Brian Kinney, was a dad and turning out to be a fairly decent one to everyone’s surprise including his own. “Lindsay, we’ll talk tonight. Please.”

On the other end of the line, Lindsay was glad she was sitting down. Her jaw dropped. Brian Kinney saying, “please.” Regaining her power of speech, she said, trying to dismiss the knot of dread she felt, “Okay, Bri. We’ll be there between six and six-thirty. You want me to bring anything?”

She’d experienced Brian’s culinary attempts back in college. She still remembered the time he’d tried to fix chicken piccata. She shuddered. No, it was best that Brian limit his time in the kitchen. His skills were in other areas. She blushed, glad she was in the privacy of her own office.

“Couple of Greek salads. Justin’s at Daphne’s so I’ll just order him a pizza.”

She smiled. Brian Kinney domesticated. Who’d have thought? She’d never seen him so happy as he was when he was with Justin. It was patently obvious that Brian loved him. She watched the two with a lingering trace of bitterness and hurt. There was once a time when she’d thought she and Brian would end up with the dream. Then her world had been shattered when Brian admitted he preferred fucking guys and then informed her that she was a dyke. She’d never really forgiven him for that though she loved Melanie with all her heart. At least, she thought she did. Lately she wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t just because her wife was pregnant with Michael’s kid, though that added to the strain. And she wished she could talk to Brian about her conflicting emotions. He was still her best friend.

“Lindz,” Brian’s voice cut into her thoughts.

“Yeah,” she said, coming back to the present.

“You can explain to your bitter half that you’re spending time with me and Justin. Hopefully she won’t get too pissed.”

“I wish you two would try to get along.” Lindsay said. It was a familiar complaint. She’d been trying to get the two of them to be in the same room with each for nearly ten years without ripping each other to shreds. It hadn’t worked yet. 

“Not a chance in hell. I’ll see you later.”

After Brian hung up, Lindsay sat at her desk looking at the pictures she’d framed. One was of her, Melanie, and Gus. The other was one Justin had taken more recently of Brian with Gus. The resemblance was marked. Lindsay often wondered if her insistence that Brian be the father had to do with genetics or the fact that Gus would forever link her with Brian. She didn’t like that thought. It certainly upset her to think that Gus’s entire existence might be predicated upon a lie. So she picked up the phone and dialed her wife to let her know that she and Gus were spending some time with the toddler’s daddy. Melanie was bound to be unhappy, but such was life. Lindsay was tired of doing everything she could to make Melanie happy and failing. Sometimes love wasn’t enough even in Muncher Villa.

Meanwhile, at Justin and Daphne’s apartment….

The two were sharing a pint of coffee ice cream, Daphne getting the lion’s share cause it was her favorite, and Justin, well, he liked any kind of ice cream. He couldn’t help thinking it would be even better if he were eating it with Brian.

“Just, you okay?” Daphne asked. She’d sat listening to Justin recount the day’s events, culminating with his solo masturbatory experience in the shower. She’d long since accepted the fact that Justin and Brian’s sex life should be held up under a microscope and examined. Straight people should be so lucky.

“I’m fine. Just a little worried about Brian. You know, he’s never been open. But today, seeing him with Claire, I think I understand why. It must have been sheer hell growing up in that household.”

“Well, he turned out okay. I mean Brian’s wildly successful, owns his own business, owns the loft outright, drives a hot car, and has you.”

“So why am I not enough? Why doesn’t he believe I love him, Daph?”

She put her spoon back in the nearly empty ice cream container and studied her best friend. She’d often wondered what would have happened between her and Justin if he hadn’t been gay. But they’d tried that once and it was weirdness all over. “You ran the first time things got rocky. When he wouldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear, you ran to the first guy who would. I’ve seen you and Brian together, J. He loves you.”

“So why won’t he just say it? Is it so fucking difficult?”

Daphne sighed. She couldn’t help but wish that Justin remembered the night of the prom. Her exposure to Brian had been limited at the time: Justin giving the tour of the “fuck pad” and her jaunt to Woody’s to tell him that Justin had fled to New York. But she’d known as Brian walked into the prom that night that all of his defenses were down, that the real Brian was laid bare and open for all to see. Then she’d seen him in the parking lot, absolutely devastated, and she’d known with every fiber of her being that Brian Kinney loved her best friend. And in that moment, her crush on the older man, had turned into a deep abiding respect tinged with feelings of love for him.

“Justin, he loves you. He can’t say it because he’s scared you’ll leave him again. Do you think it was easy for him to let you in again after what you pulled with Ethan?”

“Daph, I know you didn’t like Ethan. But---” Justin started, retrieving the ice cream container from his friend.

“No, Justin, I despised Ethan. I knew he wasn’t good enough for you and I knew that you weren’t over Brian. Hell, I don’t think you’ll ever have Brian out of your system. But he needs you now. He needs you to stick and weather the storms. Every single person who he has expected to love him have ended up hurting him. From his parents to Michael to you. It’s no wonder that his shields are up. Every time he lets someone in, he gets hurt. So he erects shields that are stronger and wider.”

Justin narrowed his eyes at his friend. When did she gain all this insight into Brian? “Okay, Ms. Freud. What do you suggest I do?”

“Don’t smother him. Just let him know that you’re a soft place to land and that you’ll be there to catch him.”

“What if he doesn’t believe me?”

“You make him believe you.”

“I don’t exactly have a handful of fairy dust I can sprinkle on us, Daph,” he reminded her sarcastically.

Then it occurred to him what he’d said and he blushed. Daphne laughed at his expression. Before she could say anything, his cell phone rang. “Probably His Big and Badness,” she said. She’d dubbed Brian that years before though she’d be reluctant to ever say it to his face. Although, knowing Brian he’d probably like it. Comments that would be insulting to mere humans were compliments to Brian. Go figure. Just another reason the man was such an enigma.

“Hello,” he said.

Then, he mouthed Brian to her. She nodded, sensing he wanted to be left alone to talk to him. She left him alone in the living room with the container of coffee ice cream, deciding that she should really study the molecular chemistry of atoms though that had about as much appeal to her as a tooth canal. She was much more interested in the love life of her best friend. It was then that she realized that she really needed to get out more cause her last boyfriend had been a total asshole. It hadn’t helped that she’d found him fucking his roommate. Yeah, a guy roommate. Why was it all the cool, gorgeous men in her life weren’t straight?

“Hey,” Justin’s voice got softer.

Brian had sat down on the pile of pillows in the living room with a pile of papers strewn out in a barely discernible order. “You coming home anytime soon?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“Lindz and Sonny Boy are coming for dinner. You eaten yet?”

“No,” Justin said, conveniently forgetting the pint of ice cream he’d just wolfed down. There weren’t going to be too many years when he’d still be able to rationalize the amount of calories he consumed. “You need me to pick anything up?”

“Thought I’d order you a pizza and Lindz and I would have a couple of Greek salads.” Brian took a deep breath as he couldn’t believe what he was about to suggest. “Is my favorite girl busy tonight?”

Huh? Brian inquiring about Daphne wasn’t exactly new. She was one of his favorite people, but it still took Justin aback. “No, I think she was going to curl up with the new Garrison Keillor book for her Lit class.”

“You think she’d mind hanging out with us tonight?” Fuck me, I must be going soft in my old age, he thought. But it would also be a buffer. And something told him he was going to need that degree of separation.

Justin looked at the cell phone, rendered speechless for a moment. Where is Brian Kinney and what have you done with him? “No,” he said, cautiously.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised. I saw the note and I know how much Daph loves that scene in Velvet Goldmine when Ewan’s singing on stage and out comes his dick.”

Justin couldn’t help but laugh. Trust Brian to restore levity to the situation. “You like that scene too. Though I think you prefer him in The Pillow Book,” he teased. Returning to the topic at hand, he said, “Yeah, I don’t think she’ll mind. In fact, I think we’ve still got a stash of pot here and a thing of popcorn.”

“Good, bring her. And, Sonny Boy, thanks.” Brian said, clicking off the phone. He looked around the loft at the careful disarray and then remembered with a groan the shattered vodka bottle. It just wouldn’t do for Lindsay and Gus to arrive at the loft and that still be untended. Besides, Gus hated wearing shoes inside nearly as much as his daddy did. And the toddler would make a beeline towards the new plasma television that had been one of the first purchases he’d made after Kinnetik began making money.

Justin stared at the phone and then stood. He made his way to Daphne’s door and knocked. “Come in,” she said.

He opened the door to find her reclining on the bed with a molecular chemistry textbook opened in front of her and a highlighter in her mouth. “Well, don’t you look studious.”

“Fuck you, Taylor,” she said, laughing as she pelted him with another highlighter. Then, “What’s up?”

“Brian said Lindz and Gus are dropping by for dinner tonight. He and I were going to have a movie night. I think he’s going to drop the bomb on her tonight.”

“What about Melanie?” Daphne asked, without guile.

“I think Brian wants to tell Lindz alone before he deals with Melanie.” Justin grimaced. He could just imagine Lindsay’s wife’s reaction to Brian’s news. “Anyway, he wanted me to invite you to movie night. And, I think you should bring a pillow.”

“All night at God’s Gift to Gay PA’s loft? My, what will his boyfriend think?” Daphne teased.

“That you’re very lucky, Daphne Elizabeth Chanders. Besides, it’s been a while since you’ve seen Gus.”

She nodded. That was true and she did adore Brian’s son. She feared he would be quite the little heartbreaker when he hit his teenage years, gay or straight. She put the textbook back on her night stand and studied Justin. He looked tired, she noted. “Just, you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s just been a long day. What with Ethan and Claire.”

Daphne smiled though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “What do you think he wanted?”

“I don’t know.” But I’m going to find out. Like his lover, Justin knew that Ethan wouldn’t have come by the loft like he had unless it was important. Dismissing thoughts of his troublesome ex from his mind, Justin said, “Let’s go. I told Brian we’d bring popcorn.”

“I thought he didn’t eat carbs after seven,” she reminded him.

“I don’t think Brian’s in any position to complain about carbs. I think he just doesn’t want to be alone tonight. Telling Lindsay about this is going to be difficult for him.”

Justin had no idea how right he was. Brian was going to need him tonight and, for that matter, he would need Daphne.


	8. Acknowledging Fears

As Brian finished tidying up the loft, he realized he had yet to call Jennifer Taylor to set up the lunch date, er appointment, he corrected himself. She was one of only two women who had the unerring ability to make him feel like a teenager again, like he was being called into the principal’s office for some minor infraction. For reasons unclear to him, he knew he had to tell her himself. After all, he owed her that much and more. He knew he’d never be completely comfortable with her but they’d come a long way since the day she’d stormed into Brian’s office with a bag full of Justin’s stuff and a check. Christ, he’d been pissed. 

So it was with not a little trepidation that Brian dialed her number. To his surprise, it was a young female voice who answered though. Molly, he thought. 

“Hey, Just,” Molly said. With that disdain only younger sisters could manage. Must be a female thing, he thought. God knew that Claire had it too and Brian remembered none too fondly occasions when she’d given him grief. But after the show that afternoon Brian had little desire to think of family, particularly his own.

“Molly, it’s Brian.”

She smiled. She liked her older brother’s lover even if he was kind of old. But she was not too jaded at age fourteen to recognize that Brian was hot, kind of like Tom Cruise or George Clooney.

“Hi, Brian.” The emotion in her voice wasn’t forced. She was genuinely happy to hear from him.

Brian couldn’t help smiling. He liked Molly Taylor who, at fourteen, was beginning to come into her own. With strawberry blonde hair and Jennifer Taylor’s looks, she was bound to be a heartbreaker. He particularly liked the way she gave her brother hell. Throwing Justin off his game wasn’t easy to do but Molly did it with a certain panache that would stand her in good stead in adulthood.

“Your mom around?” he asked, hunting for a pack of cigarettes. He knew he had one unless his blond had been devious and hid it from him. He figured the situation called for one or two. Maybe smoking would settle his nerves. They were jangling like a fucking tambourine.

“Yep,” Molly said. She did like Brian even though her father refused to acknowledge he even had a son. As if that woman he was obviously sleeping with was better than Brian, she thought bitterly. “Let me get her for you.”

A shrill “Mom” came through the receiver at earsplitting volume and Brian winced, holding the receiver away from his ear. Teenage girls, he thought amusedly. Not that I have much experience with them, he amended his thought. Teenage boys, yes. Somehow that thought didn’t comfort him much.

Finally finding the cigarettes, he shook one out. Lighting it, he took a drag while he waited for Jennifer to come to the phone. He realized that this was one of the few occasions he’d called her for help or to talk. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with her and he knew that despite her assertions to the contrary she still had some reservations about him. He couldn’t exactly blame her.

Molly finally tracked her mom down in the room she had converted into an office, sitting at the desk, with her glasses perched on top of her head. Jennifer looked kind of frazzled and Molly knew her mother would be surprised to hear it was Brian and not her son. “Mom,” Molly said. There was a delayed response as Jennifer turned to look at her younger child.

“What honey?”

“It’s Brian.”

Hmm, Jennifer thought absentmindedly. Then her daughter’s words sank in and she took the receiver, panic settling in. “Brian, is Justin all right?”

Oh shit, he thought, hearing the panic creep into her tone. Of course she’d go into panic mode. Because he called so rarely. Damn it. “He’s fine. I actually wanted to talk to you about your dinner invitation.”

Relief ran through Jennifer as she relaxed. She leaned back in the chair, attention diverted from the contract she’d been scanning for a house she was closing on. Someday she hoped that she’d be finding her son and his partner one of their own. It was a mother’s dream, she realized, but it gave her hope. After all, the loft was a “fuck pad” and she’d loved seeing the expression on her son’s face when she’d uttered those words. Utter shock. Brian, however, hadn’t even blinked. Mr. Cool, she thought. For too long, she’d been reserved and attentive, the perfect suburban housewife. Stepford wife, she mentally corrected herself. For way too long, she’d been the perfect wife for Craig until her eyes had been opened. God, they’d been opened rather rudely as she’d careened into a life of single motherhood and independence at age forty. She had many things to be grateful for.

“Oh?”

Brian took a drag on his cigarette. “Yeah, Justin and I’d like that. I have some time in a week if you want to go. But I wanted to ask you to lunch on Wednesday.”

Huh? Jennifer’s eyes went wide. She set down her pen and kicked off her pumps. Brian never ever asked her to lunch. “You and Justin?”

“No. I have something I wanted to talk to you about.” Then he realized where those words might lead her and hurried to add, “I’m not proposing.” Christ, that would be a nightmare.

Jennifer nearly laughed. Brian had made perfectly clear his stand on gay marriage. She doubted he’d ever bend. But nevertheless she sensed something was not quite right with her son’s partner. “Something wrong?”

He’d forgotten just where Justin had gotten his tenacity. “Uh no. Consider it a thank you for all your help with Kinnetik.” God, that was a huge fucking lie. Thank God she can’t see my face, he thought.

She glanced at the huge calendar that was on the blotter. “A late lunch?” she suggested.

“Yeah,” he said, figuring he’d need a glass of whiskey to get through this one. Probably more than one. And tonight, he thought. He was dreading facing Lindsay. “You can call Cynthia to set it up. I don’t have my calendar in front of me. Unless you’d rather do dinner.” Christ, am I still Brian Kinney? He thought. This had to be a first. Me going to dinner with a straight woman who isn’t a client. And no, Debbie didn’t count.

Jennifer rubbed her eyes, wondering if she was hearing things. Brian suggesting dinner. Well, the world hadn’t fallen off its axis. “Lunch is fine. Chez Marie okay?” Figured he’d be enough out of his comfort zone without them doing a dinner. Too straight, she thought, for her almost son-in-law. But lunch was fine.

Brian grinned. There were reasons he adored his partner’s mother. And adoring Jennifer Taylor was not something Brian would have ever predicted. In fact, he’d thought he’d forever remain her mortal enemy and had been pleasantly surprised when she’d slowly but surely come to accept him. A shared love of French cuisine was one of the things they held in common, other than Justin, of course. “Chez Marie is fine.”

Jennifer nearly sighed. It had been so long since she’d been out and Chez Marie was one of her favorite places. “I’ll call Cynthia tomorrow to set it up.” 

Privately she thought it had been too long since she and Cynthia had gotten together. She liked Brian’s assistant, had ever since Cynthia had been her unwitting accomplice back when she’d thought Brian was the devil incarnate for seducing her son. Now, they shared tidbits of gossip though Cynthia had been remarkably reticent about Brian when she’d last spoken to the woman. That had peaked her curiosity though decorum and breeding had prevented her from prying. After all, even Brian was entitled to his privacy.

Ten minutes later, Brian had thrown on a black shirt over the tank. Dressed him up a little more. He realized he wasn’t at the top of his game but damned if he’d greet Lindsay and his son looking like the Grim fucking Reaper. He walked over to make sure all the shards of glass had been removed and was thankful, yet again, that he’d refused to carpet the loft. He liked all the hardwood though at times he’d wished rather fervently for it when he’d ended up on his back under a certain blond’s assault. That made him smile.

He walked over to his desk, straightening papers and his eyes fell upon the desk calendar. He recognized the date and, for a moment, simply forgot to breathe. Oh, holy mother Mary, Brian thought. Christ, this is just the worst fucking day of my life. He wondered if Lindsay remembered. Then realized a moment later that there was a better chance of Lindsay suddenly deciding to take it up the ass or that she liked dick than there was of her not remembering the import of this date to both of them. And he had put it out of his mind for years. Someday he’d have to explain their connection to Justin, why it seemed a platinum cord bound them together. And it wasn’t just Gus or the fact that he’d been her last male lover before he’d informed her that he thought she preferred pussy to cock, and that he certainly preferred dick. Not one of his finer moments as he’d delivered that bomb with his usual lack of tact.

Before he could slip into brooding mode, he heard footsteps clattering up the steps and, glancing at the wall clock, realized it was Justin and Daphne. It was too early for it to be Lindsay and his Sonny Boy. He slid the loft door open and a giggling Justin and Daphne nearly fell through the suddenly open door. “Hey, gorgeous girl,” Brian said, in his best seductive tone.

Justin threw him a glance and Brian smirked. He could flirt with the best of them and even straight women sat up and paid attention to Brian. You could make book on that. “Brian,” Daphne said, inclining her head just as Brian kissed her cheek.

He could have wept when she didn’t ask him how he was. Thank God, he thought, she isn’t treating me like an invalid. Not that Justin had either, he admitted, but it had been a long day. It was bound to be a long night and not for a good reason like fucking all night long. “Daphne, you want something to drink?”

She smiled. “Sure,” she said. “Glenlivet if you have it.” She was teasing, of course. She hated whiskey. But Brian downed the stuff like water. She figured it was the Irish in him.

He narrowed his eyes. “You known better than to ask an Irish man for Scottish whiskey. That’s a mortal insult, my dear,” he said, slipping effortlessly into an Irish brogue.

She glanced at Justin, who merely shrugged. He rather enjoyed the show when his lover and his best friend got together. The shrug said, don’t ask me. You’re the one who got him started. Deal with it.

Chocolate brown eyes met hazel. Brian’s were sparkling. “Beer’s fine, Brian. Thanks.”

“You know where it lives.”

Oh God, I love this man, Justin thought. He was feeling better. He scanned the loft, noting the remains of the bottle had been cleaned up. 

Daphne snorted as she made her way over to the fridge. She opened it, scanning the contents. It baffled her how Brian could survive on so little, like he could survive on a diet of cum and Justin. But maybe that was all he needed. Men, she thought. “Want anything?” she tossed over her shoulder.

God knew, Brian did but he was forced to be good. He couldn’t exactly tell Lindsay if he were half drunk. And he’d never wanted to get drunk more than he did at that moment. She’d never forgive him and he didn’t want his son to see him inebriated. He remembered rather too well the occasions when Jack had stumbled in from an evening out with the “boys” of the electrical union, slurring words and walking into walls and stumbling. That wasn’t something he wanted to expose his son to despite what Melanie, the she-wolf, might think. He did have some principles. “Glass of guava juice.” Justin’s dick, he thought silently.

“Just,” Daph asked, getting out a bottle of Dos Equis for herself and the container of juice for Brian, the lord of the manor. And Brian had never looked more regal, she thought, even if he was carelessly casual, even rumpled.

“Same as you,” he replied, taking a moment to study his lover.

Brian looked better, like he’d gotten some of his color back. He walked over to stand near Brian and was surprised when the man said softly, “Come here.”

Justin crept closer and Brian pulled him into an embrace. Said softly against his hair, “Have I thanked you for standing up to Claire?”

“Uh no,” Justin said, tipping his head back so he could meet Brian’s eyes. Long gone were the days when he’d just stand by and watch those who supposedly loved Brian rip into him without saying anything. Brian meant more to him than that. And people needed to remember that even baby lions have claws and fangs and know how to use them. He’d be reminded of that in days to come.

“Thank you, baby,” Brian said softly, knowing that he’d rarely if ever called Justin anything other than Sunshine or Sonny Boy. And even those occasions were rare. He just wasn’t that demonstrative when it came to emotions.

Shocked more at the endearment than anything else, Justin kissed him, lips brushing gently against Brian’s. It wasn’t a sexual or provocative kiss, more sensual than anything else. Daphne watched the two of them and realized that it wasn’t sex that bound the two of them together but something more fundamental than that. They complemented each other in so many ways. Like two halves of a whole, she thought. Someday she’d like to have that. Maybe someday her prince would come though she thought that Brian would hate being called anyone’s prince. But she was practical enough not to believe in fairy tales or happily ever after.

Still she cleared her throat, waiting as two pairs of eyes met hers, almost guiltily. It wasn’t as if she’d caught them in bed, she thought, but still it was an intimate moment between lovers. She handed Justin his bottle of beer and Brian the glass of guava juice. Brian’s eyes met hers and what she saw there rocked her. But it was fleeting. Like a flash of lightning, there one minute, gone the next.

“Care to sit?” Brian said, indicating the pillows and futon mattress. The loft was still rather bare of furniture. Most of the budget that would have gone towards refurnishing the loft had been sunk into Brian’s business. 

Daphne rather doubted that Justin minded. As long as it didn’t look like an opium den and he had Brian, Daphne knew Justin would accept just about anything. She followed the boys’ lead and sank down onto a pillow, nearly sighing at the softness. Christ, he has good taste, she thought, thinking of her own homey apartment that felt Bohemian rather than upscale. Brian’s had always felt more like a showroom for expensive Italian furniture than anything else. She remembered her wide-eyed wonder the first time she’d seen it and him. 

She watched as Brian pulled Justin back against him. These carelessly intimate moments were an insight into their relationship that she knew was rare. A side the denizens of the backroom never saw, that his friends probably never saw. There were those rare moments when Brian’s guard was down and he was completely relaxed. She doubted that his friends would doubt the reality of Brian’s feelings for Justin if they saw this tableau. “Want a cigarette?” Brian asked. His nerves were on edge but he was calmer than he’d expected. Calmer than the situation warranted. Under the circumstances no one could blame him if he was a little crazy or neurotic.

“I’m fine.”

Brian studied her, this friend of Justin’s that he’d gotten to know so well over the past few years. Daphne wasn’t really a part of their circle but she was a part of the circle he and Justin made. As such, Brian was fiercely protective of her. As she was of him, a fact which amused him. “You want to surf the net?”

Eyes narrowed, Daphne looked at him. “Kinney, you trying to get rid of me?”

Brian laughed. “No, Daph, honey. You’d know if I was trying to get rid of you. I’d have my hand down Justin’s pants or my mouth on his dick.”

Bluntly and unapologetically honest. Vintage Kinney, she thought. “Yes, I know. I’ve seen the floor show, remember?”

“Rather enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

She smiled a little nervously. “Two gorgeous men fucking the hell out of each other. Who wouldn’t? And I believe Cynthia enjoyed it too.”

Brian’s arms tightened imperceptibly around Justin. He knew the blond still felt faintly embarrassed by that. It had been a moment spurred on by a stupid bet and one Justin probably regretted. Feeling vaguely uncomfortable, Justin turned to look at his friend. “Daph, you know I love you.”

“Yes,” she said, caution creeping into her tone.

Justin avoided looking back at Brian, simply nestled back against him. “But please don’t bring up that night. It was a one-time shot. No repeats.”

Got it, she thought. As I have the video courtesy of one Brian A. Kinney. She’d been surprised when she’d received the Fed Ex package. Even more surprised when she realized that the video camera on the tripod in the corner of the bedroom had actually been on taping every moment in live, living color. Only Brian could be as casual about his sexuality. Her oldest friend was a little more reserved. “I know that, Just.” And just like that the subject was dropped.

An hour later, school had been discussed and work and Brian had actually made a few suggestions about wardrobe improvements that Daphne considered. And the pizza order had been made. Just as they were beginning to become bored again, they heard the knock on the door. “Ah, that would be Sonny Boy and Lindz.” Brian said, rising to his feet, gently dislodging Justin so that he fell on the pillow.

He slid open the loft door and a giggling, squirming toddler ran full-tilt into his Daddy’s arms. It took full control for Brian not to wince, when Gus locked his arms around his knees, coming dangerously close to his balls. “Bri,” Lindsay said, looking kind of frazzled herself. Then she noticed Justin and Daphne sitting on the pillows. And she wondered again just why Brian hadn’t wanted her wife along for this dinner. She let Brian deal with their son for a moment then walked into the kitchen, setting the bags down on the counter. She removed two Greek salads and then stuck them into the refrigerator before joining everyone in the living room. She kicked off her heels and wondered again what sadist had decided that women would look better in such beautiful torture devices.

“Hey, Gus,” Justin said, sitting up as Gus ran towards him.

“Just,” Gus said, excitement clear in his voice. He liked his daddy’s Justin. Daddy had been sad when he wasn’t around. Daddy was happy now. He looked at his mommy and she looked kind of sad.

Brian met Lindsay’s eyes, saw the question in them, and shook his head. Not now, he mouthed. At the moment, he’d have cheerfully killed for a cigarette. Gus looked around, seeing a stranger in their midst. Daphne noticed Gus’s attention and realized just how much his son looked like Brian. The child dubbed Mini-Me by Justin wasn’t far off the mark. “Hi,” Gus said, unsteadily rising to his feet and toddling over to Daphne.

He climbed into her lap and Daphne couldn’t help smiling. The child had his mother’s eyes but his features were definitely stamped with Kinney heritage. “I’m Daphne. Call me Daph,” she said, figuring the nickname was easier for a nearly three-year-old to handle.

“Like on Scooby Doo,” Gus said. I’m going to like her, he thought, snuggling up against her. She smelled a bit like Mommy.

With that simple phrase, Daphne fell a little bit in love with the littlest Kinney-Peterson. “Yep, like on Scooby-Doo.”

Brian and Lindsay looked at each other. Both smiled. Their son had charmed yet another person. And he’d connected her name to a cartoon he loved to watch in re-runs. Brian smiled, realizing that he’d watched the originals. And didn’t that make him feel old?

“Hi, Daphne.” Lindsay said, finally remembering her manners. 

“Lindsay,” Daphne said, adjusting herself so Gus could become more comfortable. “Nice to see you again.” It hadn’t escaped her attention that the blonde’s eyes had grown cool. What’s up with that? She wondered. But there was something just a bit off in the way Lindsay studied Brian, she noted. Like she had feelings for him or something, she thought. No, that can’t be it. Lindsay’s a lesbian. But Daphne made a mental note to study that further. She knew that Brian and Lindsay had past history, past intimate history.

“You want something to drink, Lindz?” Brian said, glancing at the statuesque blonde.

“Uh, yeah. You have any Perrier?”

Brian looked at her. “You wouldn’t rather have a glass of chardonnay?”

“Can’t. I’m driving, remember?” She threw a rather pointed look at him.

“Yes, I remember.” Brian said, disgusted. Couldn’t he do anything right? “I’ll get it for you.”

“No, that’s OK. I can get it.”

Reining in his temper took effort. “Lindsay,” he hissed, “I’ll get your fucking Perrier.”

Now he couldn’t miss the daggers she looked at him. Fuck it, Brian thought. Hormonal women. She wasn’t even the one having the baby. And she wondered why he didn’t like pussy?

Temporarily diverted from paying attention to Brian, Lindsay studied Justin. The young man looked good, she admitted. Justin always looked good and she’d wondered about the week they’d spent apart recently. Wondered if it was just another of their typical spats. If Justin had walked in on Brian and another trick. She’d never understand their relationship but she didn’t condemn it the way her wife did. Hell, she couldn’t. She remembered him in college and in the early years after he’d graduated. Brian had calmed down a bit and that was saying a lot. “Justin, how’s school going?”

Justin looked at her. He knew that she’d probably rip into him for not telling her about Brian’s illness but it wasn’t his place to tell her. It was Brian and she that shared a child, after all. He was just the father’s lover. It took effort for him not to feel better about that but he knew that his position in Brian’s life would always be transitory. “School’s going good. I have to do a portrait of someone close to me or a self-portrait.”

“You decided who you’re going to paint?”

From the kitchen, Brian listened attentively. It was the first time he’d heard about this new project and then realized that the assignment had probably come up during their time apart. But he realized with a sense of guilt that he rarely asked Justin about school even though he was paying for it. “Um no,” Justin said, throwing a glance Brian’s direction, knowing the man was paying attention even if he appeared that he didn’t notice what was going on. Brian was remarkably observant.

“Is this a full self-portrait? Or are you studying nudes?”

Justin squirmed a bit on his pillow. This was making him a little uncomfortable. He still felt a bit uncomfortable with freehand drawings and paintings, and leaned a little bit on the computer program Brian had bought him. But he was gradually becoming more used to using his hand, though it cramped after twenty minutes so he couldn’t do more than that at a stretch. The professors were accommodating but the lasting effect of the attack irritated him. “Um, it can be either.”

Ok, Brian thought, my attention is definitely peaked. And, why hasn’t he mentioned this before? He could see just how uncomfortable his lover was. But then Justin said, “I don’t want to do a self-portrait of myself.”

Uh oh. Brian uncapped the bottle of Perrier and rejoined the small group in the living room. Before he could ask any probing questions, the buzzer for the downstairs door sounded. Ah, fuck, he thought, making a mental note to talk to Justin about the project later. He pushed the series of buttons to let the party gain entrance to the building. A few minutes later, Brian was paying the pizza delivery guy and locking the loft door behind him. He’d called and left messages on nearly everyone’s voice mail telling them to leave them alone for the evening. He hoped, really hoped, that Michael would respect his wishes just this once. The last thing he wanted was the whole Liberty Avenue gang in the loft. Not tonight.

Justin rose to join his lover in the kitchen and kissed Brian’s shoulder. “Hey, how you doing?” Justin said, voice soft so as not to arouse suspicion.

“I’m fine. I just want to get this over with. You know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Justin could completely understand where Brian was coming from. “I’m here for you.”

“Not going anywhere?”

“No.” It was the closest Brian would come to admitting he needed Justin there for support and Justin knew it. Knew it and wouldn’t press. “I love you,” Justin said.

“I know,” Brian said, smiling a bit. He didn’t need to hear it all the time and more often than not it made him uncomfortable. Yet there were times when Brian needed to hear it more than anything in the world. And when he’d woken up alone in that hospital room, it had been Justin he’d wanted. He’d desperately wanted to have the blond’s arms around him and hear him say that he loved him. Yes Virginia, even Brian Kinney needed to be loved, needed to hear it.

“Mind grabbing the plates?”

“Not at all,” Justin said, recognizing and accepting Brian’s need for changing the subject. “Hey guys, you all set with drinks? Lindz, what does Gus want?”

“Soda,” Gus said, his little voice piping up.

“Sorry sweetie,” Lindsay said to her son, watching as her son’s mouth formed a pout. “He’ll have milk.”

Brian grimaced. “All we have is soy, Lindz. Will he drink that?”

Since Gus spent so little time at the loft, Lindsay couldn’t exactly blame Brian for not having 1% skim milk or rice milk. But she still felt vaguely irritated. He’d been so goddamn mysterious, she thought. What the hell is going on? But aloud, she said only, “Guava juice is fine, Bri.”

Daphne hadn’t missed the interaction between Brian and Lindsay and wondered again just what exactly there was between the two. Brian seemed more on edge than usual and that was considering his cancer. She looked at Justin and saw that he too was considering Lindsay. Her eyes met crystal clear blue ones and Daphne knew that he was wondering what was up with her also. It would bear discussion later, she thought, resolving to talk about it with her friend.

Justin and Brian returned to the living room and Brian handed his son a sippy cup of juice. He had no desire to clean up a spill. Lindsay took a slice of cheese pizza and opened the container which held her salad. Drizzling it with vinaigrette, she took a bite. It didn’t escape her notice that Justin had nestled into Brian. If they started feeding each other, she was going to have to say something, she thought. 

“So how’s work at the gallery, Lindsay? I hear there’s a new Auerbach exhibit. I bet you’re busy,” Justin said. He knew of the eccentric artist’s work on canvas and off canvas.

“Yeah, the show will be interesting. Daphne, what are you studying now?”

Justin wondered at the abrupt change of subject. Usually Lindsay was as passionate about art as he was. He felt Brian’s arm tighten around him and knew the man was summoning courage. He’d had a rough day. And Justin wished he could give Brian comfort. He knew rationally that sex wasn’t all they had between them but sometimes it was the glue that held them together. Now was a true test of what they had.

“I’m pre-med.” Daphne’s tone was cool as she appraised the other woman. “I’m taking microbiology and virology and some other courses.”

Brian looked up, making a mental note to talk to Daphne more. She probably knew about testicular cancer and he was kind of relieved that Justin had had her to talk to. God knew, that the support system they had was not infallible and sometimes collapsed in on itself. He looked at his son and felt again strongly that he needed to play a stronger role in his son’s life. Though he’d once joked about Melanie providing the masculine influence in Gus’s life, Brian now knew that he wanted to be an active participant in his son’s life, not simply an observer. That Gus deserved more from him.


	9. Acknowledging Fears

Once dinner was over and Gus’s head was bobbing, Brian looked at Lindsay, saying, “If you want to put him in our bed, you can.”

The look of utter shock on Lindsay’s face was not feigned. “You’re kidding, right?” Utter horror rang through her cool patrician voice.

Justin watched Brian. Three, two, one… Then it happened. Brian exploded. “We need to talk. It’s our fucking bed and, for your information, I would not put my son in a bed where I’ve just fucked someone. The sheets are clean, goddammit. Why the hell does everyone have such low opinions of me? Do you really think I’d put my son in a bed with a puddle of jizz that he could roll into? That I wouldn’t change the sheets?”

“Keep your voice down,” Lindsay said, glancing quickly at her son who’d fallen asleep with his head on Daphne’s lap. “You’ll wake the baby. God, Brian, do you have to be so crude?”

“Lindsay, he’s not a baby. He’s three, he’ll be four in eight months. And it’s not as if he hasn’t heard you and Melanie fighting before. I’m sick and tired of you assuming that I don’t know how to parent my own child.”

“He’s our child,” Lindsay reminded him. “Mine and Melanie’s.”

Brian’s body went taut. And he clamped down forcibly on his initial reaction. Had the woman forgotten what he’d done for her? What he’d almost given up when he was little more than Justin’s age? Maybe it’s time I reminded her, he thought viciously. “But Sabrina wasn’t yours and Melanie’s. She was ours.” So much for tact, he thought, wishing instantly that he could take back the words.

Justin had stood to join Brian, to provide a united front, but at the man’s words he stopped dead in his tracks. Who the fuck was Sabrina? And why did Lindsay looked like he’d just struck her? Seemed the gloves were off. Daphne met Justin’s eyes and she said, softly, “I’ll put the baby in bed.” Her eyes were wide but she knew better than to ask questions. This was between the three of them.

“You bastard. You fucking asshole,” Lindsay hissed, tears standing in her eyes.

“Yes, that’s right,” Brian said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “I’m always the bad guy, always the one everyone blames for all the fuck-ups that happen. I’m the bad guy even when I get left. I’m the bad guy for not signing over my parental rights.” Then his voice leveled out and it was deadly quiet when he said, “And I’m the bad guy for getting cancer.”

“Fuck---,” Lindsay started, then her face went white. “What—what did you say?”

“I said I have cancer. Lindsay, I have cancer.”

Lindsay reached for something to brace herself on and Justin had to restrain himself from going to her side. This was not something he wanted to support her on. “You’re telling me you have cancer?”

“Yes,” Brian said. His eyes were dead, a slate that conveyed no emotion. Full-blown emotional shutdown. “I have testicular cancer. I’m in radiation. I didn’t go to Ibiza. I was in Baltimore at Johns Hopkins.”

“And you tell me this on the anniversary of our daughter’s death?” Lindsay said, feeling cold and alone. “You tell me this when our son is asleep in the next room. God damn you, Brian. This isn’t fucking fair.”

He laughed, a hollow sound that chilled Justin. But Justin knew better than to approach his lover. And Brian had had a daughter? “Fair,” Brian snorted. “You want to talk to me about fair? I’m the one who lost a ball. I’m the one who can’t make love to my lover, to my partner. I’ve had visits from Claire today. Even the fucking fiddler showed up. And you are sitting here talking about fair. Lindsay, darling, none of this is fair. And I didn’t think that you were the only one allowed to mourn her death. You’re not the only one who lost a child.”

Lindsay was still pale. “Justin,” she said. But her entreaty fell on deaf ears. Justin had gone to stand beside Brian, standing so close that a letter opener wouldn’t fit between them. But they didn’t have to touch one another to feel connected.

“He didn’t know, Lindz. All the skeletons are out of the closet now,” he said.

She looked at him. She’d been there for the pain and happiness and she’d loved him. Hell, she still loved him. Brian would always have a part of her heart and Gus was a tangible piece of their connection. Not all of the skeletons, she thought bitterly. Not nearly all. You still have ghosts that ramble around, Brian. Tears ran down her face now, streaking her makeup. Daphne looked on thinking she’d stumbled into some nightmare episode of the Jerry Springer show. “How long have you known?” Lindsay clung to calm, dashing away the tears that continued to fall.

“About a month.”

“How’d you find out? Was Justin going down on you?” Even Lindsay could be vicious.

Justin tensed and Brian laid a hand on his arm. Ease down, kiddo, he seemed to be saying. “No. I went to the backroom the night we found out about Vic. The guy sucking my cock was also a doctor. He informed me after I’d shot in his mouth that I had a lump in my ball, that I should get it checked out..” Brian remembered standing in the backroom, feeling pain even as the guy had worked his dick, but needing the release. He’d needed the mindless release and knew that he didn’t want to use Justin that way, as a simple receptacle. 

“I always thought it’d be---”Lindsay began but couldn’t finish as she met Brian’s eyes. She hated herself for what she’d been about to say. Then, “You went to the backroom the night Vic died? Jesus Christ, Brian.”

“AIDS? You know, Lindz, dykes can get AIDS too. It’s not just us fags. A dental dam isn’t 100% effective. You should know. You were lucky you didn’t get anything after your little ménage a trios with Leda. And I’m not a fucking saint.”

Justin’s eyes went wide at that. Leda? He thought. Melanie’s ex? Wow, this was interesting.

Lindsay looked at Justin. “And you are still with him?”

“Lindz, I love him. I understand him. And what Brian did was pain management. And a bet,” he said, meeting Brian’s eyes. “He opted to tell you after the surgery when he knew his chances.”

“He should have told me. I’m the mother of his son.”

“A fact you only trot out when it’s convenient or you want something from him. Brian’s right, Lindsay. You hold that over his head like an anvil. Have you forgotten all the things he’s done for you, including posing as your husband so Gus could get into a good school? Signing over his parental rights so you wouldn’t marry that French guy? Giving you money for things like day care even when he was down to his last grand.”

“No, but---”

“But nothing,” Justin said. “Everyone in our little circle seems to put conditions on their love for Brian. I don’t.”

“Yet you left.”

“Yeah, I left. It was the biggest mistake of my life. Leaving Brian was stupid, a lapse of judgment. But I came back because I know what I have in Brian.”

He turned to Brian. His words were soft. “Are you going to tell me about Sabrina?”

Fuck me, Brian thought, suddenly tired to his marrow. He so didn’t want to deal with this. But he’d had a drama queen moment and blurted out a secret that he had kept buried for over a decade. He met Lindsay’s eyes and she shrugged. “Lindz?” Brian made her name into a question. He knew he’d hurt her and, at the moment he was too tired to care, to soothe hurt feelings.

“Brian, you opened Pandora’s Box.” Lindsay said, resigned to opening herself up to the hurt. She turned to look at Justin, realizing that she’d underestimated the young blond’s loyalty to Brian. “Justin, Melanie doesn’t know about this.”

And Justin understood perfectly in that moment. It was true what Melanie said. There was a part of Lindsay’s heart that would always belong to Brian. What did it say about Lindsay and Melanie’s marriage that she’d kept this from her wife? he wondered. Relationships just didn’t survive secrets like this.

“Brian.”

Brian met Justin’s eyes. He saw no judgment in them or sympathy just simple unadorned love. And at that moment that was what he needed. He took a deep breath and then realized that it wasn’t just the three of them. He looked at Daphne who still looked as if she’d just tumbled into a war zone and smiled faintly. “Daphne, honey, if you don’t want to stay that’s OK. I’m sorry about this.”

She could only nod. Brian, a father before Gus? Wow. “I’m OK, unless you want me to leave.” She understood that this was a private moment for all of them.

Brian shook his head. “You can stay. Feel free to keep an eye on Gus.” Then he met Lindsay’s eyes and said, “I think we should sit. Justin, can you get me the bottle of Jim Beam? Lindsay, are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?”

The blonde’s eyes were cold as she appraised the father of her son and late daughter. Sometimes she truly hated him for being so calculating. But she knew the death of their child had hit him hard and that was a primary motive for his agreement to donate sperm for her and Melanie. It hadn’t just been the E and coke talking when he’d agreed. He’d done it because he loved her. She looked at Justin. “Double Absolut on the rocks.”

Justin was a bit surprised. But Lindsay shrugged and Brian simply nodded. When everyone had their drinks and Daphne had checked on Gus to make sure he was still asleep, Brian said, “Okay, everyone comfortable?”

Lindsay rolled her eyes. Daphne held tight to her second bottle of beer and knew that this night was bound to get worse before it got better. Justin sat close to Brian, the bottle of Jim Beam between them. Liquid courage, he thought, unknowingly echoing Brian’s own thoughts. Looks like rain, Brian thought.

“Well, this is what happened,” Brian’s voice was soft as he began. And Justin was reminded of thousands of years of Celtic bards like Taliesin telling stories around peat fires. And with those simple words they were thrown back into Lindsay and Brian’s past.


	10. Acknowledging Fears

Brian’s POV:

While I know there are points in my past that I’ve glossed over with Justin or omitted entirely, I am perfectly aware that this a huge one. And it’s one that involves me and Lindsay. Now Justin knows we’ve fucked before and, while I still prefer the pleasures of sinking my dick into an ass, she’s not the only woman I’ve been with. Justin is well aware of this fact as the floor show that he and I treated Daphne and Cynthia to will affirm. So naturally I was pretty relieved that he hadn’t had his own drama princess moment and stormed out. That he’s giving me a chance to explain. Lindsay, on the other hand, looks like I’ve just wounded her to the core. That certainly wasn’t my intention but just because my parents were the gatekeepers to hell doesn’t mean that I can’t be a father to my own son. And who decided that she alone was able to mourn for the child we lost? Do mothers have the corner on the market for grief or women for that matter? I was pretty fucking lost when Justin left and everyone assumed it was my fault, abandoning me to the fucking wolves. And losing Sabrina was devastating for me, too. But as to parenting, I’m not the same man who went to the Leather Ball and left a seventeen-year-old kid alone to baby-sit when it was my responsibility. Granted that action should have told everybody that Justin wasn’t just a trick instead of making me look like an irresponsible jackass but everyone’s just willing to believe the worst of me. Brian, the fuck-up. Brian the asshole. They’re roles that everyone in my so-called family is comfortable casting me in. Because when I do something nice they all expect that I have ulterior motives. I get fucking sick of that. 

But back to the story…

“Everyone comfortable?” Brian asked, looking around to make sure Gus was still asleep.

Three nods though Lindsay was still shooting daggers at him. “Lindz?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to start this or shall I?”

Brian had once said that he’d rather have his tongue super-glued to a lesbian’s twat than attend the fairy convention that Emmett and Michael went to but then he’d have to eat pussy. That would probably be preferable right now to what he was facing right now. And that was saying a lot.

Part of the reason Lindsay had wanted to talk to Brian was because it was the anniversary of their daughter’s death. She hadn’t wanted to be alone and knew Melanie would have more questions that she wanted to answer. She had thought they’d have a nice dinner and then talk about Sabrina. It was always one of the hardest days of the year for her and she knew Brian thought about it, though he tried not to. Lindsay knew that it was one of the nights he’d take off from visiting the baths or Babylon and sit home with a bottle of Beam, getting quietly trashed. She’d envied him that, that total disregard for responsibility, the ability to sink so deeply into grief. That wasn’t to say that she didn’t worry that someday he’d sink so deep into a blackness that he couldn’t find the light out. Now, she hoped, Justin would be that light that illuminated his path. Because she feared Brian would need him now more than ever. And she hoped the young man was strong enough to stand by his side.

She looked at him and saw how cold and distant his eyes were. Oh, Brian, she thought, heart silently breaking for him. He had started the story and then turned to her asking if she wanted to chime in. Their eyes met and she saw a silent plea in his. She couldn’t help wishing he’d broken the news about having cancer in a different way but that was Brian. He’d never done anything the easy way in his life. His life always seemed to be a battlefield where he lived life like he was living on a minefield.

“Lindz?”

“Yeah?” her voice had softened considerably as she’d lost some of her anger’s edge.

Daphne still looked a little shell-shocked. This wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined the evening going. But welcome to the life of Brian Kinney, she thought. He looked like hell. Lindsay looked like she was torn between killing him and petting him, trying to soothe away the pain. Justin looked at his lover and wondered just exactly how Brian was going to get through this. It wasn’t as if he’d just fucked the afternoon away. It had been an emotional upheaval all day long, Justin thought. It was a wonder he hadn’t just crashed.

“Let’s do this,” Brian said, resigned. He unscrewed the cap to the bottle of Beam and took a hit directly from the bottle. It was the first time in a long time that no one gave him shit about it. Perhaps because everyone knew he needed it. He turned to Justin and handed him the bottle. “Sunshine, let me get through this and then you can ask all the questions you want. Okay?”

Justin nodded. He reached for the discarded pack of cigarettes and lit one. Lindsay, for once, did not remind anyone of the dangers of secondhand smoke. “Justin, honey, I’m going to let Brian have the floor on this one. I can’t talk about this tonight but I know you’ll have questions. I’ll answer them later.” Don’t know if I can do this.

Brian leaned back and started speaking, in a tone much less didactic than the one he often adopted. “Lindsay and I met in ’91 at Penn State. I was still playing soccer because it was what was paying my way through school. Pop had expected me to join him in the ranks of the straight world, working for Pittsburgh Electrical but I had dreams of getting the fuck out of this town. He had no interest in higher education and had once told me that I aspired too loftily. Anyway, I’d decided to take an art history course. I’d always had an interest in art though my talent was limited. There was a willowy blonde in the class who was smart and beautiful.”

He glanced at Lindsay who smiled. “I introduced myself to her and over croissants and coffee we became fast friends. She was an artist who was planning on teaching. I, on the other hand, wanted to do something that made money. Law school was out --- would’ve taken too much fucking time. And everyone knows how impatient I am. And business was something I could wrap my head around and marketing interested me. Everyone knew I could take shit and make it platinum. Anyway, we started hanging out a lot. Mikey was at Allegheny Community College and while we were still friends, our interests had begun to diverge.”

“I saw him on campus and thought he was the hottest man I’d ever seen. Smart with a biting sense of humor. Fabulous clothes sense. And he was bluntly and unapologetically honest.” Lindsay interjected. Okay, maybe I can do this. Maybe I need to do this. 

Smirking, Brian said, “Well you always had good taste. So we hung out a lot. We’d bonded over a shared interest in European art, like the Beaker People and the Celts. Stuff that is in my backyard as it were. So one thing led to another and one night we found ourselves drunk and horny. And we found ourselves making out and then we were in bed in Lindsay’s suite. Her roommate was a rather strange creature who kept odd hours. Always wondered if she became involved in one of those goddess-centered religions that are so in right now. So I woke up the next morning wrapped in the sheets with Lindz and realizing that it was the first time in a long time that I’d actually fucked a woman.”

“Yeah well. I don’t remember it quite like that,” Lindsay said. This part of the story she could tell without becoming too emotional. She glanced at Justin, seeing that he was following the story. “We bonded over art. And he got me drunk on a bottle of champagne that my parents’ had been asking me to save for a special occasion. But when did I ever do what my parents expected? My roommate was out of the suite for a lunar ritual of some sort. Never did ask what. He and I started making out and Brian’s hand found my breasts and I found his dick, and one thing led to another and we were rolling around on my bed. I knew Brian said he was gay but he was extraordinary in bed.” 

Justin grimaced. “You know that, Justin.” He did but it had a serious squick factor when it was Lindsay that pointed that fact out to him.

“One night after a soccer match, I came home to a message from my dad telling me that my grandfather had died. Now Old Man Kinney was a great man. I was devastated. He was the only person in my family I could relate to. He’d come over from Dublin and he’d made his own way. He enjoyed fine whiskey and relating the myths to me, tales of Lugh and Dana and Brian Boru. He’d tell me stories of the faery mounds, how people would get taken inside and millennia would pass before they’d emerge. He was fascinating and I loved his accent. He would take me out to his shop and I’d sit there for hours listening to Grandpa Liam. It hit me hard, that the one person in the world in my family who didn’t treat me like a nuisance, like a failure, was gone. So I proceeded to get shit-faced. I was done with the first bottle of Beam and starting on the second when my doorbell rang.”

“And that was when I appeared at his door with something I’d cooked,” Lindsay said. She didn’t think she’d ever forget how devastated and ravaged Brian’d looked. She hadn’t seen him look that awful until the night Justin had gotten hurt. Brian’s eyes had looked the same way. “He was drunk and angry and needed some form of release. He was hurting and in my misguided attempt to console him, we found ourselves in bed again.”

Justin could relate. Brian Kinney’s favorite form of pain management or pain release was sex. It had gotten him through some pretty painful times. Justin had done the same a few times when he was deliberating whether or not to lay it all on the line for Brian again, after Ethan. It was weird thinking of him doing the same thing with Lindsay though. Him not ending up in the backroom with his dick down some anonymous trick’s throat but soothing his hurts with Lindsay. People are strange.

“While I’m as prepared as any good boy scout,” Brian said, tongue in cheek. “This time I was too far gone to think rationally enough to try to find a condom. I needed someone and Lindz happened to be there. So we fucked all night long. The next morning, I woke up to a bitch of a hangover and the damning realization that yet again I’d slept with a woman. And a woman who was rapidly becoming one of my best friends.”

“I thought you were hitting the backrooms all the time and the clubs,” Justin said.

“I was but there were times when I was willing to mix it up a bit. That’s not to say that I ever dipped my wick into a transvestite but I was willing to sample the female population. And I was negative. Even then, I was careful who I fucked.” Brian was adventurous sexually. Had done just about everything in the Kama Sutra and then some. But a guy dressed up as a woman just didn't do it for him. 

“I, on the other hand, was confused as hell. Here was this beautiful man who had told me he was gay but had fucked me twice. Granted, both times we were drunk but the fact remained that I’d slept with Brian twice. And only Brian. So a few weeks later, I was late. The various forms of contraception were not really discussed in the Peterson household so I visited the clinic on campus. I knew enough that I could chart my time and it happened fairly regularly so I wasn’t that naïve. The physician assistant ran a test and it was confirmed. I was a few weeks pregnant. Barely twenty and pregnant. I couldn’t exactly talk to Lynnette. I was terrified so I called Brian.”

Brian smirked. Lindsay’s older sister was nearly as bad as his. He remembered a very interesting afternoon at the Peterson condo in upstate Maine. Some things were priceless. “So I came home one afternoon after soccer practice to a frantic message from Lindsay. She said that we needed to talk. I’d intended to go out that night. Let’s face it, I was a horny twenty-year-old.”

Justin couldn’t help laughing. Brian was still horny but he could relate to the twenty-year-old part. Brian glared at him. “She came over and told me that she was pregnant.”

Okay, Taylor, now’s not the time to get goofy, Justin reminded himself. This was a serious moment. And he could only imagine how Brian had reacted. It made him wonder how he would have reacted if something had happened when he and Daphne slept together. “I was conflicted about whether or not to have the baby.”

“I, being the good, albeit lapsed Catholic that I am,” Brian began sarcastically, “told her that if she wanted to have the baby we could get married.”

Huh? 

“It was a huge sacrifice from him and I wasn’t too thrilled about the idea. Because I was already beginning to suspect I was a lesbian and Brian had pointed that fact out to me none too gently. So I told him I wanted to keep the baby. For three months, I watched my body change.” She glanced at Brian. “Felt the baby growing inside me. I was told that it was going to be a little girl.”

Brian remembered how he’d gone with her to the OB/GYN appointment. Nothing as uncomfortable as being a gay man in an office full of pregnant women. But he’d felt an unmistakable connection to the little human being growing inside of Lindsay, that it would be a tangible part of them. His chance to prove that his blood wasn’t tainted, that his legacy would be good. “I saw the baby on the monitor. Ten little fingers and ten little toes,” Brian’s voice had gone soft. So soft that it was barely audible.

Justin looked at his lover. Oh shit, Justin thought, he’s gonna crash. “She was absolutely beautiful,” Lindsay said. “We’d talked about names. I had thought about Brianna but Brian preferred Sabrina and we compromised. Sabrina Miranda Kinney Peterson. Things seemed to be going perfectly. Then one night, I was walking cross-campus to Brian’s apartment and something felt wrong. I had been spotting all day long and I knew that could mean bad things but I didn’t think anything could happen to my baby and Brian’s. Somehow I ended up at Brian’s. He wasn’t exactly happy to see me.”

Brian looked decidedly uncomfortable. No, I wasn’t happy to see her, he thought, remembering exactly what he’d been doing and whom. A man who was nearly impossible to forget. Yet another part of his life that Justin knew nothing about. “No, I wasn’t happy to see you. But I knew something was wrong. I helped her inside and that’s when I saw the puddle of water and blood form on the linoleum. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I called 911 and rode with her in the ambulance to the university hospital.”

Lindsay’s eyes were damp with tears and Brian knew that he was perilously close to crying himself. “I was in and out of consciousness but I remember him holding my hand, saying that I’d be okay, that I had to be okay.”

Brian felt the tears flood. He’d said nearly the same thing to Justin when he was lying in the parking garage, when he’d held him in his arms waiting on the ambulance. But it’s different when it’s a child you might lose. Trying to get control of his emotions, he took a deep breath before beginning to speak again. “When we got to the hospital, they wouldn’t let me go in with her but the doctor promised to keep me updated. It helped that I was the father. Finally, they let me go in with her after the doctor came out to inform me that they’d been able to save Lindsay but not the baby. It was touch-and-go for Lindsay. She’d lost a lot of blood. I sat in her hospital room for three days, praying that she’d be okay. When she finally came out of the sedation, I was so fucking relieved. Then it occurred to me that I was the one who had to tell her that our child was gone. That the child we had made preparations for was gone.”

Lindsay had made her way over to Brian and Justin eased over, letting her in to sit next to him. “I’d known when I was drifting in and out that it would be bad. But it hadn’t been a troubled pregnancy. Everything seemed fine. As devastated as I was, Brian was too. I knew that we shared the pain of a lost child.”

Brian wiped away the tears with the sleeve of his shirt, not caring that it was a $250 dollar shirt. “I didn’t realize until then how much I actually had wanted this baby. At first, it had seemed like such a nuisance. I mean, a gay guy and a woman who was probably a muff diver having a child. Sounds like an episode of the Jerry Springer show. But when I saw the sonograms and it hit me that it was a person I’d created, I changed my mind. I was willing to do anything, even marry Lindsay if it meant providing a stable home. Still, she was an emotional wreck. It was left to me to decide if we wanted to bury the baby or cremate.” What a fucking decision to make. It was why he’d hated being responsible for Ted’s life when he was lying in his drug-induced coma. Simply easier to let everyone think he was heartless than to admit that he was deeply conflicted.

Lindsay had rested her hand on his arm and Brian didn’t move to brush it off. “I knew that you would do the right thing. I didn’t want to leave everything up to you but I was too wrecked to make decisions about burial.”

“And I’ve always been coolly logical,” he said bitterly.

“No, you’ve always been practical. But never truly cold-blooded,” she corrected him gently. “When you told me that you’d paid for a Celtic cross for Sabrina’s burial, I thought it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever done. I knew then that you’d be a good father. It’s part of the reason I wanted you to be the father of my child with Melanie. Had nothing to do with good genes or replacing the child we lost. It had to do with the person you are inside. The person you let very few people actually see.”

Justin had seen that person. That person Brian was when the defenses and guards were down. He felt again just how similar he and Lindsay were. Perhaps in a parallel universe it would have been Lindsay and Brian ending up together. Brian looked at him. “Sunshine?”

If he turns away from me now, Brian thought, I don’t know what I’ll do. He’d once said that relationships couldn’t survive without trust and honesty. But sometimes relationships didn’t survive honesty. I wonder if he’ll stand and fight or walk out that door with the white flag of surrender?

Justin’s own eyes were damp and he could hear Daphne sniffling. “I---” he began, before realizing that words sometimes weren’t the right answer. That actions were sometimes the only thing that mattered. Didn’t Ethan teach me that? He raised his head and met Brian’s eyes, saw the question and need in them. He moved past Lindsay, realizing that right now she wasn’t the one who needed comfort. He knelt beside Brian and gently and tentatively wrapped his arms around his lover. Christ, can’t things ever be easy? 

Lindsay noted the gesture, realized how Brian just accepted the casual touch without flinching or turning it away. How he simply let himself be. He’d never done that with anyone but Justin, she mused. It occurred to her that Brian and Justin had started out on a very un-level, unstable playing field but over the years it had leveled out. That they now faced each other as equals. 

Brian leaned into the embrace, letting himself be held. God knew he was taking comfort from the nearness of Justin. The fact that he’d been teetering on the knife’s edge all day long was not lost on him. He knew that he could be pushed off the knife so easily. And letting it all go might not be such a bad thing. He hadn’t cried about the cancer but maybe, just maybe, he could cry about the cancer and the loss of his daughter. Grieve both things.

“I’m gonna go,” Lindsay said. She rose to her feet, meeting Brian’s eyes. She knew that she could trust Justin to take care of him.

Daphne recognizing that her best friend and Brian needed to be alone rose also. “I’m going to go also.”

While Lindsay was dealing with a very sleepy Gus, Daphne slipped on her sneakers and glanced at the still intertwined Brian and Justin. Justin glanced back at her and said, “I’ll walk you down, Daph.”

She shook her head and her look told Justin all he needed to know, that she felt Brian needed him now more than she needed him to walk her down to her car. She hugged him and didn’t know quite what to say or do to Brian. Brian seemed pretty far away at the moment. Lost to anyone but Justin.

She waited for Lindsay to emerge from the bedroom with Gus and then the two women headed downstairs. Once on the freight elevator, Daphne and Lindsay looked at each other. Unsure what to say, Daphne said, “Lindsay, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was kind of distracted. Her thoughts were still with Justin and Brian upstairs. 

“You think they’ll be okay?” Do you think Brian will be okay?

Lindsay understood and appreciated what Daphne was trying to say. She’d learned over the years how to read subtext. It helped to decode Brian’s statements. “Yeah, they’ll be okay. Brian needs Justin right now. It’s not just about Sabrina. That’s not what has hit him so hard. I think everything just came crashing in on him like a crescendo.” 

Daphne nodded. She’d told Justin that it was bound to get worse before it got better. She thought he was getting a sample of that. But she knew Justin and he’d deal. Sometimes the strength of her best friend amazed her and she’d seen how Brian and Justin were together. Even if Brian didn’t admit it, he needed Justin. Needed to know that he wasn’t alone. Sometimes the fears that lay in the dark aren’t imagined, she mused.

Upstairs, Brian and Justin hadn’t moved from their position on the floor, locked in an embrace. Justin wanted so desperately to tell him he loved him but didn’t know how he’d be received. Brian, on the other hand, was trying not to lose it entirely. Finally, he spoke, sounding like the words were torn from his throat, “I need to go somewhere.”

“What tonight?” Are you mad? After everything we’ve been through? You’ve got to be kidding. But there was nothing in Brian’s expression to suggest he was joking. Simply a vacant look.

“Yeah, tonight. We need to go somewhere.” Brian’s eyes were haunted, a lost look that frightened Justin. He’d seen Brian in all frames of mind but this terrified him.

“Okay, baby,” Justin said, taking the chance that the endearment wouldn’t set him off. Brian didn’t even react, his eyes didn’t even flicker. Bad, very bad. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see when we get there.” Brian stood, walking like a somnambulist up the stairs, finally sitting down on the bed with his Prada boots in hand. 

Justin waited for his lover to join him. Feels like rain, he thought. Then as icy fingers danced up his spine he amended that, feels like a storm’s blowing in. 

Justin had seen Brian in various states of mind over the years. Tonight the man's behavior terrifed him. This detachment of Brian's left him cold and worried. Brian sat on the bed, a vacant expression in his eyes. Like someone was home but the lights were all out. He eased closer as one might approach a wounded animal, unsure if it's going to let you soothe it or come out hissing and snarling.

Brian, for his part, was far away. Lost in a memory, remembering how the doctor had come out to tell him his daughter was gone. He hadn't pushed Lindsay to get an abortion even though he knew that neither of them were ready for the responsibilities of parenthood. It wasn't as if he'd had a sterling fucking example of how to be a father in Jack Kinney's household. Instead he'd been willing to sacrifice his identity as an out gay man for their child. Marry a woman he loved but wasn't in love with though he knew Lindsay wanted more despite her own issues regarding her sexual identity. With the grief came relief and for the relief he felt guilty as hell. 

Justin watched his lover, concern apparent in his eyes. The idea of going somewhere was lost for the moment. He sat down near Brian, close enough so they could touch but not touching. He knew Brian well enough to know how he'd react. The silence bothered him nearly as much as the detachment. On the whole, Justin would prefer him to be loudly angry like he'd been at Kinnetik when he'd threatened the restraining order than seething with a quiet rage. He didn't know quite how to bring Brian back from where he was, how to cajole him out of the dark corner of his mind where he currently was.

They sat for a long time, each lost in his own thoughts. Some things were better left buried, Justin thought, wishing he could get some reaction from Brian. He was surprised when the man turned to him and reached out for him. "Justin?" Brian's voice quavered.

"Yeah," Justin's own voice was quiet and he fought to keep it even. God, I'm so fucking terrified that I'm gonna lose you.

"Don't leave tonight."

"I'm not going to."

"No matter what I say or do, don't leave. I don't care if I am as mad as the fucking hatter, wait it out." There was an unreadable look in Brian's eyes.

"Okay," Justin said. The light was flickering in Brian's eyes.

How the hell do I handle this? he wondered. But then he remembered what Daphne had said about not having seen the worst. If this was a preview, he wasn't sure he wanted to stick around for the whole show. But he loved Brian and it mattered to him that Brian wanted him there. Wanted him and not Michael. And it sobered Justin to realize that if Brian hadn't responded he might have been forced to call Michael. Wouldn't that have just been a wonderful thing? he thought bitterly. Me asking his best friend for help? A best friend who despite his denials was still very much in love with Brian.

Brian had moved back on the bed, till he was sitting against the wall, staring out at the darkened loft. "Everyone go home?"

"Yeah. Daphne and Lindsay left at the same time."

Shit, he thought, I didn't say goodbye to Gus. Lindsay'll rip me a new one for that. "There's more."

Justin sighed. He'd figured that. And he knew that Brian never did anything easily or halfway. Like pushing friends off cliffs for their own good. But when was Brian going to understand that he didn't have to do things on his own. Justin crawled back to sit next to Brian, surprised when the man reached out for his hand. "Stay."

That one simple word shattered whatever idea Justin had about leaving. It meant so much. Hope, he thought. Brian's fingers intertwined with Justin's and he waited for whatever was going to happen next. Knowing that it’s not going to be good doesn’t necessarily prepare you. And Justin had never been good at waiting out storms though he knew he should’ve learned by now. Brian’s grip tightened on Justin’s and they both sat in an uncomfortable silence, each waiting. One for strength and the other for courage.


	11. Acknowledging Fears

While Justin and Brian were dealing with their own issues, Daphne decided to take the long way home. While she was driving down Liberty Avenue, she saw a familiar sight: a short, greasy-haired musician with an open violin case. It disgusted her that he was husking when he had a contract with a prestigious record company specializing in classical music. She wondered viciously what his agent would do if she made an anonymous phone call saying that he was husking again. Had to violate some stipulation of his contract. Daphne could be vindictive when she wanted to be. She pulled into a spot and got out, crossing the street. She knew that Justin wouldn’t be pleased with her decision but this was not the time to worry about his reaction.

Ethan was in the middle of a concerto when he heard a silky voice say, “What are you doing back in Pittsburgh?”

He looked up and his expression darkened. Aw, fuck, he thought. Did Justin send her? “The tour’s taking a break. What do you want?”

“I should be asking you that. Why did you go see him?”

“How is that any of your business?”

Realizing that her words sounded a bit like Michael when he was interfering in Brian’s business, she plunged on, “He’s my best friend. Therefore, Justin’s my business.”

“You always hated me. Wasn’t I good enough for him?”

Daphne let her eyes grow cold. “No,” she said simply.

“Why Kinney? What does he have that I don’t?”

“Justin.” She said, watching as he flinched. Good, she thought. “Leave him alone.” Hardening her voice, she added, “Leave them both alone.” She wouldn’t allow herself to feel sympathy. Safer to adopt a clinical detachment. She turned to walk away when his voice stopped her. 

“I’m sick, Daphne. I have bone marrow cancer. And no one wants to operate on a kid who has been exposed to AIDS. I’ve been with a partner who was promiscuous.”

She turned to face him. It made her furious that he was all but calling Justin a slut. “Justin would never---” she began, then realized it wasn’t exactly an accusation. “Are you telling me you have HIV?”

“No,” he said. “We were always safe. I wanted him to fuck me raw but he always refused.” It was an admission he hated making to a woman he knew despised him. “But it’s a possibility. I’ve been feeling bad lately and it isn’t just side effects from the cancer and the treatment. ” And the few interludes I’ve had lately haven’t included condoms. He’d recently introduced bare-backing to his repertoire figuring his life couldn’t get much worse than it already was. He knew it was a fucked-up view of his life but he was dying anyway. And he’d lost the love of his life.

Thank fucking God, she thought, hoping he couldn’t read her thoughts on her face. But it was clear that she felt relief. “Is that what you went to tell him? That you have cancer?” That’s all Justin needs to hear right now. That his partner and his ex both have cancer. What a cosmic fucking joke.

“Yes.”

“So you don’t want him back?” Cause you don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell.

“I love him, Daphne. I just wanted to see him one final time. I don’t have much time.”

“And Brian?”

Ethan’s expression darkened. “I had a lease on Justin’s heart. Kinney always had the option to buy. I knew that going in. I knew when I had the one-night stand with that kid in Harrisburg that I’d be pushing Justin out the door, back into Brian’s arms. I won’t deny it hurt but I expected it.”

“He didn’t go running back you know. He waited for about a month before even entering the backroom.” She could remember the nights she’d heard him crying into his pillow. Or the nights he’d stumble in from Babylon drunk or tweaked on something. He’d indulged in forms of pain management that were more Brian’s than his own. The nights she’d heard the moans coming from his room and knew he was jerking off. She’d wondered then whose image Justin was imagining. Figured it was Brian’s. “You hurt him pretty fucking bad.”

“I know when he returned to the backroom,” Ethan said, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into his tone. “You don’t play on Liberty Avenue without hearing about Kinney’s pet stud returning to his old haunts. I always wondered when the two legends would hook up again. It was inevitable.”

Despite her best intentions, Daphne felt kind of sorry for him. That’s not to say she’d ever really liked him. Even when they were together, she’d known that Justin still loved Brian. That he and Brian were meant to be together. 

“You need to tell him all this,” Daphne said. “Ethan, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I hope they’re able to find a match for you.”

“I’m on a wait list,” he said, picking up the violin. “My folks have mortgaged their house for me though they refuse to even visit me. They don’t much like me. They all but disowned me when I came out.” It didn’t help that he’d been giving his chemistry tutor a blow job when his parents had walked in the door. It had been an eye-opening experience for all. “But they don’t want to see me die without giving me a fighting chance.”

“Bye.”

Ethan sighed. “Daphne?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“The best man won, you know. Justin will always be in love with Brian. I saw that today. I saw that no matter what I thought about Brian lacking a heart, his heart belongs to Justin. They do love each other.” Then he asked, worry creeping in to his tone, “Do I need to worry about Kinney?” For all his bluster, he knew that Brian could and would beat the shit out of him without a second thought.

Daphne shrugged. It was difficult and unwise to predict Brian’s actions. “I know,” she said sadly. This poor kid had no chance, she thought. No chance at all.

She walked away from Ethan, leaving him playing a heartbreakingly sad piece. Nope, she mused, I’ve never liked violin music.

At the loft…

The silence between Brian and Justin had grown interminable. Justin got up and walked in to the bathroom ostensibly to take a piss but he really just needed a moment away from his silent lover. He finished and then returned to the living room, sitting down in the Barcelona chair. He was startled a few moments later when he felt hands on his shoulders, then felt Brian’s arms loop around his neck. He was reminded of a time long ago when he’d been working at the computer and Brian had done this same thing. But this time it wasn’t a zucchini man or a casual trick that was coming between them. He raised a hand and laid it on Brian’s.

Brian realized that as hard as this day had been on him it had been equally hard on his lover. “I didn’t mean what I said about us not being partners.” He had wished he could take that statement back. 

He, better than anyone, knew just how hard it had been for them to get to that stage without his casual disavowal of their relationship. He'd known when he blurted the words out that it would have hurt Justin less if he'd simply used a knife on them both. That there was nothing he could have said that would have hurt his lover more than declaring their partnership over.

Justin turned so he could see Brian’s face. “It’s not like it was ever formal between us. Just something we said. Undefined.” Unspoken, he thought, like so many things between us.

Ouch, I guess I deserved that, Brian thought. He felt himself slowly beginning to return to some state nearing normal. He maneuvered around the Barcelona chair, kneeling between Justin’s legs. It wasn’t a pose he’d often adopted. At least, not when it didn’t involve him tasting his blond. Brian had shed the raw silk shirt and the wife-beater. Justin liked the way Brian’s skin looked in the moonlight. A little paler than usual but he knew that hitting the tanning beds wasn’t an option. Not any more. So many things were off the table now.

“I should have told you about Sabrina. I didn’t know how.”

Justin put his hands on Brian’s face, tracing his jaw line with a fingertip. The angles and planes of Brian’s face were as familiar to him as his own. “You have to do things in your own time. I know that. I don’t expect you to change.” Memories drifted back of the last time he’d said that.

“Why aren’t you mad?” That was what he couldn’t fathom. He’d half-expected Justin to storm out or throw things. But that wasn’t his way. Actually that was his way. “Why haven’t you walked out that door? Why do you keep coming back to me? What reason have I ever given you?” I so don't deserve you. Sad thing was he actually felt that way at least 75% of the time.

Oh, Brian. Understanding they were rhetorical questions, he remained silent. Justin leaned forward and gently kissed him, nipping his bottom lip, tracing the bite with his tongue. He wanted to taste Brian all over but was reminded of the fact that there wasn’t anything Brian could really do to reciprocate at the moment. This sucks, he thought. And not in a positive, life-affirming way. It was disheartening to realize just how much of their relationship had its foundation in sex. In their sexuality, particularly Brian’s.

“You remember the night in the backroom at Babylon?”

“Which one?” 

Good sign, Justin thought, if he’s willing to joke. Means he’s slowly coming back to normal or what passed for normal in Brian’s world. “Either one. But I was thinking about the night of the King of Babylon contest.”

Brian’s lips curved into a sly smile. He thought he’d been so stealthy, waiting for five minutes before following Justin down the stairs, where he’d seen the blond fucking the trick he’d been cruising. Found it kinky that he’d left the crown on when he was fucking the guy. Admiring the blond's technique. “Go on.”

“You were jealous. I could sense you.”

“Bullshit.” Though he knew it was true. He’d often felt that they’d always have that connection. Be drawn to each other as if one was magnetized.

Justin tipped his head up so he could look into Brian’s eyes. “It’s not bullshit. I knew you were standing there watching me. I couldn’t help wondering if you were growing hard, touching yourself through the fabric of your jeans. It’s kind of overpowering to realize that I had an effect on you back then.”

No shit, Sunshine. You’ve always had an effect on me. With one look, you can make we forget that we’re not the only ones in a room. And, Brian realized, I went home that night alone. I went home to an empty loft and jerked off, wishing you were there. He'd turned over in the night, hating himself for reaching out for someone that wasn't there. Even then, he'd started realizing just how much he hated sleeping alone. How despite everything he'd gotten used to Justin being in the same bed.

Justin continued to speak, “You gradually let me in. You have told me bits and pieces about your childhood. Enough so I know that it was hell for you. And bits and pieces of your college years. But tonight, you told me something about your life that I would never have guessed. You let me in, Brian. When you drop your guard, it means something. It means that you trust me. Like the first time you let me fuck you. You didn’t want to but you knew that I needed that connection. That we needed that connection.”

Brian sat there, listening to his lover’s words. “I was tired. It was easier to just roll over and let you have me,” he said. 

Justin smiled knowingly. 

“It meant something. It meant something to me,” Justin pointed out. “Telling me you had a daughter was letting down all your shields. And you told me something that I bet you never thought you’d tell anybody. I know there are parts of you that you hide. Hell, we all have parts of ourselves that we hide. But it told me that you trust me. Brian, you trust me again.” 

And trust is something I never really thought we’d get back. Not after everything that happened with Ethan. And I saw you the night I first started those posters and told you I was going home to work on a project. You wondered. You were worried that I was fucking around again. But you didn’t say anything.

“Michael doesn’t know,” Brian admitted softly. He remembered standing up on the rooftop the night Gus was born. He’d been flying on E and it had suddenly occurred to him that there was a living piece of him down in the nursery. He had a newborn son and he had needed youth that night. Needed youth like an aphrodisiac. And Justin had been there. Exactly what he had needed at the time.

Justin had figured as much. He’d been around enough to realize that Michael thought he knew Brian so well. But there were things about his best friend that only a lover would know. Thoughts and dreams and ideas that Brian had only ever shared with him. “I want you around for a long time.”

At the quietly spoken words, Brian’s head whipped up. Without conscious thought, he leaned forward, resting his head upon Justin’s chest. Felt the tears begin, splash hot and fast and wet on Justin’s shirt. Wrapped his arms around Justin so tightly that he knew he must be hurting the younger man. But he needed to feel safe and secure and loved at that moment. Justin ran his fingers through Brian’s hair, letting a hand rest on Brian’s back, fingertips moving in a circular pattern on his back. He knew Brian needed this emotional release. Knew that on any other occasion, they’d be in bed right now. It took a tremendous amount of trust for Brian to let loose like this. It wasn’t something he did often or willingly.

“Let it go,” he thought. Felt Brian shudder against him and knew the man would probably hate himself in the morning. Chastise himself for letting go for not guarding his emotions better. But for now, he was content to let himself hold him.

They stayed that way for a long time, until Justin felt Brian fall asleep, having cried it out. Justin greeted the dawn alone, having been content just to touch Brian. To be needed for once.


	12. Acknowledging Fears

Brian awoke to the realization that he’d been asleep in Justin’s arms, all night long. He eased away from the Barcelona chair, wincing as his knees protested the sudden movement. Rueing the fact that he was nearly thirty-three and not as young as he used to be, he made a mental note to never fall asleep on a hardwood floor again. He realized that Justin must have sat up with him until he fell asleep. He vaguely remembered tears falling as Justin had told him he wanted him around for a long time. It occurred to Brian that he’d once said those same words but in an entirely different context. If he hadn’t been so emotionally exhausted, he knew he would never have allowed himself to lean on Justin as he had. Too vulnerable, too open, too exposed. None of the above were feelings he was comfortable feeling much less expressing to anyone.

He stole up the stairs, quietly retrieving the portable phone. He dialed a number that Justin had the foresight to program in though Brian didn’t think he’d ever have occasion to use it. God knew in the time she’d worked for him he’d never called her at home. At least, not unless it was to ask her about a presentation or something or to remind her to bring him coffee. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d been told to go fuck something. He’d just smirked at her.

Glancing at the Tiffany wall clock, he realized it was just after 7:30. Since she didn’t have to be in the office until 9, he figured she was doing her makeup. Cynthia was just as much a label queen as he was and he admired her for it. She did know how to wear a Donna Karan suit. And she should own stock in Manolo Blahnik for all the pencil-heel stilettos she wore.

Hearing her answer, voice like silk over sandpaper, he said, quietly, “I’m not coming in today. Clear my schedule.” 

Then, “I’m fine. You and Theodore can handle it. I’m confident in your ability to handle things.” Strange that, the man he’d once seen as an incomprehensible boor was now a valuable asset to him at Kinnetik. And he’d be lost without Cynthia.

“No, my next radiation treatment is not until next week. Jesus, can’t I take a personal day? Cynthia, you know that I’m the one who signs your very large paychecks, right?”

That shut her up as he knew it would. Letting her growl at him for a moment, he remembered just how many times she’d saved his ass. There were a lot of things he could tolerate from her. It was she who had covered for him when Justin was under his desk at Vanguard giving him a stellar blow job, biting his lip as Justin very carefully licked him clean, like he was savoring an ice cream cone. It was she who didn’t even bat an eye at the cum-spattered proposal for Nike he’d handed her to have reprinted. It was Cynthia who had seen him fucking the Fed Ex guy on more than one occasion. Hell, he’d even dictated proposals to her while bare ass naked. Brian hadn’t even cared that she’d gone into the bathroom in one outfit and emerged in another by the time lunch rolled around. After all, how many times had he done the same? It was she who made sure that he had an extra suit at the office in case of such emergencies. And it was she who had been given a very rare, very private floor show between him and Justin. There were a lot of things he’d do for Cynthia. But it was a tacit agreement between the two that neither admitted just how they felt about the other. After all, they did have an employer-employee relationship. Wink, wink.

He dialed another number. “Miranda Jameson’s office.”

“Yeah, this is Brian Kinney. I need an emergency appointment.”

He could hear the receptionist leafing through the appointment book. “Dr. Jameson has an opening at three-thirty today. Someone just cancelled. Do you want me to pencil you in, Mr. Kinney?”

“Yeah.” Figured he needed the emergency session. Even if it was $250 an hour. Miranda didn’t come cheap.

Miranda Jameson was one of his oldest friends. She had been a friend when he was attending St. Ignatius and they’d remained in touch after he’d transferred to Allegeheny High School and met Michael. Without a doubt, Miranda was one of his oldest and best friends. Older friend, even than Michael. He’d played choo choo with her as a kid. And they’d done some experimenting as adults. He’d taken her to a few dyke bars and she’d experimented with Lindsay before realizing she really did prefer cock. Lindsay had resented being her test case though he seemed to recall Lindsay saying something about Miranda having a very talented tongue. And he remembered burning up the sheets with her quite a few times. Brian was sure beyond doubt that he was gay but, at the time, he’d been horny and she’d been available. And he’d never been one to pass up sex. 

She was now a preeminent psychiatrist who had opted to stay in Pittsburgh after finishing her PH.D. at Carnegie Mellon. Brian couldn’t figure that out. For years, the only thing he’d wanted in the world was to get out of Pittsburgh and now he’d dug roots.

He returned to the kitchen, removing a bag of coffee beans from the freezer. As he started the grinder, he filled the carafe with water and began the coffee. There were two things that he was confident he couldn’t live without: a high protein breakfast in the morning and coffee. It was a toss-up as to which was more important to him. Justin tended to think that he needed coffee more than he needed a morning blow job. Brian disagreed but he let the blond think he was right. Easier that way. After all, one must do what one must do to keep the peace.

He stole quietly up the stairs for a second time, returning with the midnight blue duvet. He tucked it around Justin, taking care not to awaken the sleeping man. When Justin was sleeping, it reminded Brian of just how young he still was. Granted, he’d be twenty-one in a couple of months but to Brian he’d always be the seventeen-year-old kid he’d noticed under a lamppost. How Hollywood is that? And Brian was aware that a hustler was not an option. Not under any circumstances. He knew what the ideal birthday present would be but he knew he---they---weren’t there yet. He wondered if Justin realized that he’d been slowly but steadily cutting down the number of tricks before the diagnosis. God knew that he’d been startled to come home to find that Justin had brought home two guys for them to trick with. It had been a long time since they’d done a foursome and even then he’d felt like Justin wasn’t really into it. It had bothered him so much he’d turned tail and run not admitting that it was because he didn’t want anyone else to see him after the diagnosis.

As the aromatic fragrance of Café du Monde filled the loft, Justin began to stir, stretching like a cat. The movement was sensuous in an understated way but enough that Brian took notice. His nose wrinkled, he found himself searching the loft for Brian, finally finding him at his desk. Hair damp from a shower, Brian was casually garbed in a white t-shirt and his favorite pair of Diesel jeans. It was all too clear that he had no intention of going in to the office.

Hazel eyes met blue ones, each appraising the other. Justin knew it was safer to tread lightly than to mention the events of the night before. “What time is it?” Justin asked, voice roughened with sleep, eyes still bleary as he blinked sleep out of them.

“A quarter till eight.” Brian said, gesturing to the stainless steel carafe. “There’s coffee.”

“Thank God.” It was more a prayer than a statement.

He retrieved a mug from the cabinet in the kitchen, pouring some for himself. “Not going in to Kinnetik today?”

Smart one, my blond, Brian mused. “You noticed, huh?” So as far as smart ass comments went, it lacked his usual bite or searing wit.

Justin narrowed his eyes, a look which would have been far more threatening on a Doberman pinscher. Brian thought he looked cute, like a cocker spaniel. Somehow he doubted Justin would be amused by the comparison. Never a good idea to tell one’s lover he reminded you of a lap dog. It was like being told you were a poodle when you thought you were a Weimaraner.

“You want to go grab breakfast?” He was supposed to do the diner with the guys but wasn’t up to it. He knew they’d have questions which he didn’t want to answer. Frankly, he was a little surprised that Michael had respected his wishes and refrained from calling. The way he felt he might rip into one of them, earning disappointed looks from nearly everyone in the little gang. And he had no desire to have Debbie slap him upside the head for pulling a Houdini. He had the right to a life outside of Liberty Avenue. Hadn’t they been telling him that for years? 

“How about Olivier’s?”

Olivier’s was a little French café that served magnificent beignets that fairly melted in your mouth and coffee that met wholeheartedly with Brian’s approval. It didn’t hurt that Brian had enjoyed a rather heated threesome with both the owner and the sous chef. It was a threesome that had at one point included Brian on all fours with a dick digging for oil in his ass while he gave a rather spectacular blow job. It wasn’t the way his sexual encounters usually went but on that occasion he’d been too far gone to insist that he was a top. And when the man unerringly hit his prostate, Brian would have happily sung an aria. 

The suggestion had Brian grinning. Boy after my own heart, he thought. “Olivier’s is fine. I need to change shirts.”

“You look fine.”

“Haven’t I taught you anything? It is not enough to look fine. One must look hot.”

Justin rolled his eyes. And I’m the drama queen? “Didn’t you fuck the owner and the sous chef already?” he pointed out. “And three of the night waiters? Along with the bartender?”

Brian simply glared at him. “Yes.” No sense in mentioning that Justin had been there on the occasion that he’d fucked a rather delectable morsel from Cote d’Ivore. The man’s skin had been like mahogany and he’d been hung like a horse. A nine-inch dick with a 6-inch circumference. Like some dildos, Brian had noted at the time. An interesting combination, Brian recollected, as it had slid over the porcelain skin of his blond. It had been amazing watching the contrast of light and dark.

“Don’t we have a no repeats policy?” Just a vague mention of the rules that they hadn’t resurrected after their reconciliation.

“Yes,” he ground out. Get to the fucking point, Sunshine.

“Why do you care how you look?”

That had Brian snarling, “Because I’m Brian fucking Kinney.”

“And damn proud of it too,” Justin teased. Then seeing the expression on Brian’s face said, “Just no Armani. It’s too early in the day for it.”

“Never too early in the day for Armani,” Brian smirked. But as he dug through the clothes in his closet, he found a black raw silk shirt from Lauren that he thought was just classic enough to work. “By the way, I’m going to lunch with your mom on Wednesday.”

“Scared?”

“Fucking terrified.”

It continually amazed Brian that Jennifer Taylor had embraced him into the bosom of her family when she’d once viewed him as the antichrist for seducing her impressionable son. Then, she’d begun to realize that Justin was like a steamroller and Brian had no choice but to give in. She’d even invested in Kinnetik, a move that had blown him away. And she hadn’t batted an eyelash when she showed him the old bathhouse. He had to admire his partner’s mother’s stones. 

Justin stripped off his t-shirt and began to unbutton his jeans when he felt Brian’s hand on his. His thatch of baby fine blond pubic hair was just barely revealed and he could tell Brian wanted him. “Don’t you want me to help you out with that?” he said, indicating Justin’s burgeoning hard-on.

More than anything. Some sense of decency had Justin pulling back and perhaps he felt guilty for the striptease he’d performed that would have done Mata Hari or Gypsy Rose Lee proud. When he stepped out of the jeans, Brian bit his lip. Then throwing caution to the wind, he took hold of Justin’s balls, slightly applying pressure. The inhalation made him smirk. “You want me to go down on you. You want me to swallow your spunk, don’t you? You want me to rim you until you’re begging me to fuck you.” Not for anything would he admit that he missed having Justin buck back against him, pulling his tongue deeper inside, begging him to replace his tongue with his dick.

What’s a boy to do? “Yes,” he whispered. But he stopped Brian from kneeling again. “But I want to return the favor.”

That had Brian looking up at him, wondering just how difficult it was for Justin. He remembered how it was to be a horny twenty-year-old. He’d been out fucking everything in sight and then some. He remembered some weekend trips to Philly just so he could get a taste of something new. The nights in leather clubs. Ah, the good old days. Sighing, he patted Justin’s ass. “You know that when I’m back, I’m going to make you pay for your little striptease. Make you remember just why it is you beg me to fuck you. And it won’t just be payment here in the loft. There’s an outside world, sunshine.” 

He’s baaaack! Justin thought. Relief coursed through his veins. Though he knew turnabout was fair play he couldn’t wait for Brian to be back. He’d missed him. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said.

Brian nodded and returned to the Barcelona chair. He closed his eyes and slipped a hand inside his own pants, feeling his dick. No go, he thought, after he heard the water click on. He knew that Justin was inside the shower wishing he was with there. It wasn’t vanity just simple fact. Somehow over the years a shower had just begun to feel wrong when it was just one of them. He couldn’t help but remember the mornings when Justin had been with Ian and he’d jerked off. It’s no fun sleeping single in a double bed. Or in a queen size.

He stood and began pacing. It was a Kinney thing to do. His favorite thinking position was in front of the sheet windows or in the steam room at the baths. It occurred to him that he and Justin hadn’t really christened all the rooms at Kinnetik. They’d fucked in his office and other places but there were others that had yet to have been marked by Kinney-Taylor.

In the shower, Justin couldn’t help remembering the last time he and Brian had fucked, how they’d rocked together, him feeling as though he were being bent in half as Brian thrusted in and out of him. He’d come like a geyser and he and Brian had both been exhausted. Satisfied but exhausted. The white come arced out of him and he leaned his head against the wall. 

Turning off the faucet, he retrieved a bath towel, wrapping it around his waist. He returned to the bedroom, shaking water off like a dog. Water droplets beaded on his chest and Brian stared at him like a drowning man would view an oasis. Just one little taste, he thought. Just one little taste. Even though it wasn’t intentional it was torture nonetheless.

Dropping the towel, Brian’s eyes locked on to his dick as if he were a missile locking on to a F-14 bomber jet. God damn it, he thought. Justin walked to the upright dresser and Brian had to muffle a groan. Even so, it had Justin looking over his shoulder at him. My own centerfold layout come to life, he thought. The stuff wet dreams are made of. “You okay?”

Okay, so it was a stupid fucking question and one that earned him a heated glare. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he ground out. He watched as Justin stepped into cargo pants commando. Commando for Christ’s sake. He wiggled his ass in Brian’s direction, then returned to the closet to find a shirt. “Don’t wear a t-shirt.” God help me. Save me from horny post-adolescents.

Once they were in the car, Brian’s breathing returned to normal. “You are so gonna pay for this, Sunshine.” 

“How?”

“Want me to tell you the ways you’re going to make this up to me? Cause you won’t be topping me for a long, long time.”

“Promises, promises,” Justin said, a smirk of his own crossing his lips.

Brian bit his lip. He wondered what Justin would do if he pulled the car over and went down on him in broad fucking daylight. It wouldn’t be the first time but he wasn’t as much an exhibitionist as Brian. “You know, one of these days I’m going to tease you until you have no choice but to clench your PC muscles.”

“Bring it on, baby,” Justin said.

Aw, fuck me. Brian pulled into a parking space and glanced at Justin. “You will behave, right?”

“Moi?”

“Et tu.”

“So does that mean you won’t be sucking me off under the tablecloth?” Justin asked, eyes twinkling.

“Not a chance in hell,” Brian said, though it wasn’t as if he hadn’t done it before. And the very idea had him intrigued. Just what would happen if he ducked down under the table and brought Justin off? Would the younger man be able to control himself enough to not get the two of them kicked out of the restaurant?

As they were seated, Brian knew that he had caught the eye of the obviously gay waiter. Not really his type but hot nevertheless. It didn’t escape his attention that Justin had noticed the attention also and was none too pleased. Though he hadn’t become territorial just yet. Brian ordered a Bloody Mary ignoring the look Justin shot him.

“So why didn’t you leave last night? Why aren’t you pissed at me?”

Justin stared at him as he waited for his cup of coffee. “What good would it have done if I had indulged in my own drama queen moment? You’d have been pissed at me,” he pointed out. “If I’d walked out you’d have given me shit for months.”

Touche. Brian took a sip of his drink, savoring the icy bite of the vodka. “I didn’t know how to tell you that Lindsay and I had a kid before Gus.”

Yeah, how the hell do you bring that up to your partner? “We all have a past, Brian.”

“Let me ask you something, Sunshine. What would you have done if the condom had broken and it had been Daphne?”

Looking back on it, Justin realized that deflowering his best friend could have completely fucked their friendship. As it was things had been strained between them for a while. “I’d probably have suggested marriage or adopting out,” he said. “I wasn’t ready to be a dad. Still am not ready.”

Brian nodded. Before he could speak again, he noticed the waiter heading their direction. Deciding to head him off at the pass, Brian said, sotto voce, as he approached, “Not interested, Jacques.” It was a waiter who was unfamiliar to him but one who would just as clearly have been a target had Brian been interested in cruising. It wasn’t long ago that he’d have ditched Justin at the table and pushed him into a stall. He wasn’t exactly proud of his modus operandi but he wasn’t ashamed of his sexual past.

The waiter had the grace to blush and then he couldn’t meet Justin’s eyes. Taking pity on the poor guy, Justin said, “Don’t worry about it. He’s like an alley cat, Jacques. Fucks anything with a hole.”

Brian glared at him but was kind of amused at the same time. It was the kind of snarky comment he might have made himself. “What will you have?” the waiter stammered, clearly uncomfortable.

“Eggs Benedict. Easy on the hollandaise sauce.”

“French toast. And orange juice.”

The skimpy order had Brian looking at him. “Something wrong?”

Justin hesitated knowing that Brian would cue into it and call him on it. “Just wondering how many women you’ve been with.”

“Does it matter?”

Considering Justin had only been with two and one of those was Daphne, it kind of did. Though it shouldn’t have mattered, Justin knew that the idea of Brian with a woman was just strange. He figured that each of the men in their group had been with a woman at one point or another except for Michael. The idea of Michael with a woman was just ludicrous. “No, I guess not.”

“This really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“I know it shouldn’t.”

“Twelve,” Brian answered. 

“When is the last time?”

So this wasn’t exactly the conversation Brian had intended to have over crepes and coffee. “Five years ago.” Six months before I met you.

“Really?” Justin was embarrassed to find that his voice squeaked.

“Yeah, really. I was in Austin on a business trip. Stumbled into a bar and wound up fucking a woman.” Wasn’t an experience he really wanted to relate to Justin. “Can we talk about something else?” Anything else. Hell, we can talk about the Chicago Cubs for all I care or the NASDAQ. Anything but hetero sex.

Nodding, Justin reached for Brian’s Bloody Mary. Taking a deep swallow, he handed the glass back to Brian. “You know, if you wanted a Bloody Mary, you could’ve ordered one.”

“But it’s so much better tasting yours.”

That comment had Brian wondering if he was talking about the drink or something else. The sexual sparks between them flew and he knew that he’d have to be dead not to feel something for Justin. They continued to eat in companionable silence, Justin eyeing the drink until Brian finally pushed it over to him in exasperation.

As he paid, Justin realized that he and Brian were the focus of most of the attention of the patrons. But he and Brian had had no desire to provide fodder for one's fantasy life.


	13. Acknowledging Fears

After dining, they walked out to the Corvette and Brian said, “You need to do anything today? Stop by the Institute?”

Shaking his head, Justin climbed into the passenger seat. “What you have in mind, cowboy?” The image of Brian in nothing but leather chaps was mouthwatering and he forcibly put the image out of his mind.

“You know, it’ll be you riding me, Sunshine.”

Once on the road, Brian headed north, leaving Justin curious as to their destination. Brian was remarkably closemouthed not even complaining when Justin hit on a rock station playing Christina. And then Britney.

When they pulled up to a cemetery several miles outside of town, Justin’s curiosity was peaked. “Get out.”

Justin did so, noticing that a darkness had settled over Brian. It was nearly visible. Odd that. He saw the Celtic cross over the hill and realized where they were. He wondered if he was the first person Brian had ever brought here and knew that he was. That this was a monumental thing Brian was sharing with him.

He followed Brian over the rise and they approached the grave in silence. Justin noticed the marker read: 

Sabrina Miranda Kinney Peterson, Beloved Daughter.   
April 18, 1992-April 18, 1992.   
Love, Lindsay and Brian (Mom and Dad)

There were some words below in Gaelic that Justin knew he’d have to have Brian translate. There was a bouquet of irises and lilies next to the grave and Brian wondered for a moment who’d brought them. No one knew except he and Lindsay about Sabrina and now Justin and Daphne. There was the old caretaker who received a monthly check to make sure the ground surrounding the grave was carefully maintained. But Brian doubted he’d have done that. So it had to have been Lindsay.

Justin remained silent as Brian sank down on the grass beside the headstone. “Hi, baby girl. It’s your daddy. You’d be thirteen today. A teenager. You have a little brother named Gus. My partner, Justin, named him. He was there the night Gus was born. So little and tiny. You would love him. Anyway, I own my own ad agency now.”

He was aware of the fact that his voice was trembling. He knew that he very rarely made the trip out here because it got to him so much. “Your grandfather is up there and Great-Grandpa Liam. You’re being watched over by the archangels, baby girl. I hope Pop is being nice to you. He didn't know about you, of course. I couldn't tell him. I held you, you know. You were so precious and so tiny. I could hardly believe you were real. That your mom and I played some small part in creating something so perfect.”

“Your mom and I didn’t get married. She’s married to a woman named Melanie, who doesn’t like me very much. But that’s okay because I don’t like her much either. Melanie is pregnant with my best friend Michael’s baby. It’s like a soap opera down here, sweet angel. I’m sorry that you aren’t a part of it. I miss you. I love you, baby girl.”

His voice caught on the last word and he heard a stifled sob from above on the rise. He and Justin looked up and saw Lindsay silhouetted on the hill. “Lindz,” Brian called, lumbering to his feet.

She walked down the hill, a little unsteady on heels that were just a tad bit ridiculous for wear in a cemetery. Why do women do that to themselves? “Brian,” she said, as she took his hand as he helped her down.

Justin moved a little ways off leaving the two some privacy. “I needed to come visit her.”

“You don’t need to explain. She was your daughter too.”

“I held her, you know,” Brian said. He watched as Lindsay’s eyes filled with tears.

“Yeah, I know. You had the hard part. You saw our baby girl and then had to make all the hard decisions. I couldn’t have done everything you did.”

“It was hard on me too,” he admitted.

“I know, Bri. I think everyone just forgets that you have feelings and emotions. That you’re not an automaton.”

Brian smiled slightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye to Gus last night.”

“It’s okay. He slept all the way home. He didn’t even ask me for a goodnight story. You’ll make it up to him.”

“I should have told you when I got the diagnosis. I was going through so much shit and I didn’t know how.”

Lindsay nodded, taking his hand. “Is that why you kicked Justin out? Taking a breather?”

“Lindz, I kicked him out and told him we were no longer partners. It wasn't so much a breather as me losing my shit. Not trusting Justin, or in us. I lost it so bad that I told him to get the fuck out of Kinnetik, that I'd get a restraining order.”

He watched the color drain out of her face, her eyes growing wide. “I thought that was just a euphemism. That you hated the phrase lovers and preferred partners.” Then, "You threatened to get a restraining order?"

“Not my best moment, Lindz. I was in pain, not exactly thinking rationally. You, of all people, know how I am." His voice had grown quiet. "I had paperwork drawn up. I changed my will. Hell, I even opened a new life insurance policy with Justin as the beneficiary. That’s not to say we’ll be marching down an aisle in matching Armani’s but it’s pretty fucking real. I just haven’t had the chance to talk to him about it yet. And I'd appreciate you not saying anything about this to anyone. Give me some time.”

“So it’s not just so Justin can get insurance coverage and inherit?” She'd never heard Brian quite like this.

He struggled not to give full rein to his anger, remembering where he was. “No, it’s not just for show. I wouldn’t do something fraudulent. I put a lot of thought into this, Lindz. I went to an attorney and everything. I want him taken care of if the cancer recurs. If I die, I don't want to leave him without anything.”

“What’s the chance of that happening?”

“Between 1%-3%. It might be slightly higher because my dad died of cancer.”

“His was a different kind though.”

“Yeah, but it runs in families, Lindz. You know that. Didn’t your aunt die of breast cancer?”

She nodded. “It could’ve been worse.”

“How do you figure that?” Try as he might and he didn’t try to hard, he couldn’t imagine a worse thing than him losing a ball.

“It could’ve been prostate cancer.”

Like I hadn’t thought about that, Brian thought, silently. If it had been, there’s no fucking way that I wouldn’t have hung myself. Given myself the greatest fucking orgasm of my life and then gone out like Michael Hutchence. Being who he was, Brian had experienced dark, deep depressions and suicidal tendencies. The most recent being when Justin had left him. Then he’d realized that he had things worth living for. “Thanks for that, Lindz. You always know how to put things in perspective.”

“Shit, Bri. I’m sorry. It’s just you’re still able to fuck. And that’s the most important thing to you, right?”

For someone who assumed she knew him so well, she didn’t have a clue. “For your information, I’m currently impotent. Can’t fuck Justin or jack off to save my life.” Ouch, bad phrasing. “Do you know what it’s like having a very nubile twenty-year-old living in my loft, walking around naked with a cock that makes one salivate? I want to suck his cock, Lindz. I want to have him ride me, watch his face when I take him to the breaking point.”

No, she couldn’t relate, Lindsay thought, feeling her face grow warm. “So why can’t you get it up?”

Trust Lindsay to come to the heart of the matter. “I think it’s more psychological than physical. After all, I still have a morning hard-on. But it doesn’t last long enough for me to get it into the gate.” What’s with all the cowboy analogies, Kinney? You’re a Yankee, for Christ’s sake. “And I think it’s hard on Justin too. Poor kid’s been forced to jerk off alone for the last two mornings.”

“So why don’t you just go down on him?”

Brian stared at her. Seemed Melanie’s laissez faire attitude about sex was rubbing off on her. Brian wasn’t sure he liked that side of Lindsay. “Uh, because he feels guilty. Like it’s not fair for him to be getting satisfaction when I have a terminal case of blue balls.”

“Well, he can still rim you and fuck you, right?”

“Jesus, Lindz. You truly have no idea what it’s like to be a gay man. It sends me into orbit when I can achieve orgasm, much less when I have no outlet for release.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Then it occurred to him, “You know this really is an inappropriate place for us to be having a conversation about my sex life.”

She giggled, a surprisingly girlish sound that sounded like bells ringing. “Yeah, it is. I brought some Gerber daisies for Sabrina. Think Bree would have liked them?”

Brian nodded. “You know I would’ve married you.”

“You never asked.”

“No, I never asked. Lindsay, I suggested. You know if we’d gotten married we’d have hated each other within six months. Our friendship would have been fucked. I’d have been fucking guys on the side, bringing tricks home, and you’d have been dying for cunnilingus, hitting the dyke bars. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of us or to her. It wouldn’t have been fair to her, Lindz. And the one thing we agreed on was that we wanted a better life for our daughter than we had. Given her a childhood that neither one of us had. We owed her that.”

“You’re right.”

She glanced at him. “It wasn’t our fault, Bri. Just wasn’t meant to be.”

She strode past him, noticing Justin off in the distance. “He looks like Little Boy Lost out there,” she remarked.

Brian glanced at where she was looking. “He’s been amazing through this. You know, despite what everyone thinks, our relationship is not just about fucking. We do talk to each other. It’s just that we work things out better in bed.” It’s where we are the most comfortable.

Setting the daisies by the Celtic cross, Lindsay kissed him on the cheek. “You’re a good man.”

“Promise not to tell,” Brian said, the words reminding him of something he’d once said in an entirely different context. He wondered if his mother had ever figured out that her preacher was a sodomite. Probably not. She was too fucking busy falling into a sherry bottle. 

“I’ve got to get back to work,” she said. “You taking the day off?”

“Yeah, I didn’t get much sleep last night. I fell asleep with my head in his lap.” He met her gaze directly. “Don’t tell anyone that.”

Despite the fact she thought it was cute she knew he was deadly serious. She brushed a hand over the cross and said, “I love you, Bri.”

“I know.” Oddly enough, there was no cynicism or arrogance in the comment. He did know that she loved him. 

As Lindsay walked up the hill, Brian wandered out to where Justin was. He lay a hand on his partner’s shoulder and said, “You ready to go?”

“Look at this, Brian. This headstone is from 1778. Our country was in its infancy. Just coming out from under colonization, establishing its own worth separate from Britain.”

“No Bush. No Reagan,” he quipped.

Justin turned to him, expression serious. “No fags. You think the Republicans would like to go back to that period of time?”

Brian snorted. “You think they’d give up their Mercedes Benz SUVs and laptop computers and interests in Dell or Microsoft? Hell no.”

Justin decided it wasn’t prudent to remind Brian that he was once again in that tax bracket. Then he felt Brian’s arm go around him. 

“Justin, there have always been fags. We just haven’t always been despised and reviled and seen as an abomination. Remember the period of ancient Greece and Rome? Homosexuality was a norm. It’s only recently that it’s been seen as a violation of the norms and mores of society. Think of the Native American cultures where the shamans were gay men or eunuchs or men who dressed as women. They were revered. You think those Roman soldiers batted an eyelash when some commandant said bend over or ordered them to suck a general's cock. It wasn’t a big deal. The bathhouses were full of guys fucking. You do what you have to do depending on the circumstances. Those soldiers out on march had no choice. It was either fuck another guy or jerk off every night. Which would you rather do? And the orgies weren’t just about guys fucking some woman’s snatch. Those orgies back then would make our swinging parties look tame by comparison. Don’t ever be ashamed of who or what you are.”

“You know, Ethan’s agent wanted him to deny he was gay. Deny he had a male lover.”

As much as Brian hated discussing the fiddler, he knew Justin had a point. He was even willing to let the blond get to it. “Yeah,” he said, encouraging him to elaborate.

“What pissed me off the most is that Ethan didn’t seem to give a shit that I nearly got killed coming out of the closet. And now some asshole wanted me to go back in. Damned if I’ll ever do that. I’m proud of who I am. I’m not ashamed that I like dick, specifically yours. I’d rather drink arsenic than fuck another woman. And I like the taste and smell and texture of cock. Particularly yours.”

Brian smirked. That’s my boy. “Is that why you started making stuff with pineapples, Sunshine?”

Justin smiled. “Well, haven’t you noticed that we both taste better?”

Brian had so he was willing to concede the point. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. You’ve always tasted good but now it’s even better.”

He wrapped both arms around Justin, pulling him tight against him. “Let’s go home. We have an appointment at three-thirty.”

That had Justin pulling back from him. “We have an appointment. What kind?”

“With Dr. Jameson.” Brian sighed. “My psychiatrist.”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“I just told you.”

“Brian,” Justin began. He had hated the last experience he’d had with a psychiatrist. Granted it had been with his mother but he had no desire to repeat the endeavor. 

“Miranda’s great. And I need to go do this. Justin, it’s important.”

“Miranda?” Justin asked, eyes narrowing. Since when was Brian on a first name basis with a shrink? And Alex didn’t count. He’d been a former trick.

“I’ve known Miranda since I was five. She’s the first girl who ever felt me up.” Strange thing for a gay man to be proud of but he was. “She’s a damn good psychiatrist and I need this fucking appointment. And I want you to go with me.”

“Okay, okay. Simmer down, Mufasa. I’ll go.”

“Sunshine, I don’t want you to sulk the entire time. This is the first time that I’ve brought someone in on a session.”

“How long have you been seeing her?”

“Off and on since you got bashed. She helped me with my guilt and abandonment issues. And she was there when you left me for the fiddler. And she was there when I got the diagnosis. She squeezed me in at six o’clock in the morning. She’s a damn good friend.”

Justin simply nodded. “Let’s go home.”

Brian tightened his arms around Justin. As they started up the hill, he felt a breeze pick up, and he’d swear it felt like delicate fingers brushed his cheek. When he looked back down the hill at his daughter’s grave, he was startled to see a figure dressed in a white eighteenth-century dressing gown looking up at him, with hair of gold. No fucking way, he thought blinking. Then he saw her wave. Since he’d been seeing Vic as spiritual guide which struck him as way too Castaneda, Brian was willing to entertain the thought that his daughter was a guardian angel of sorts for him. That was a bit more palatable than Vic as his own personal Dalai Lama.

“Let’s go home, Sonny Boy.” He glanced back and saw that the apparition, for it was clearly that, had dissipated. He was a little more shaken than he wished to admit.


	14. Acknowledging Fears

Justin thought about the events of the morning as they rode back to the loft. Brian had retreated behind his cool exterior. He was sure that this had been an emotionally wrenching couple of days that had only been aggravated by the fact that his typical mode of coping was temporarily on hold. So Justin did not even say anything when Brian reached over the glove compartment and removed a pack of Marlboro Lights. He simply waited as Brian lighted one, and then offered him the pack, which Justin declined.

"Brian."

"Hmm."

"You sure you want me to go with you to Dr. Jameson's?" It wasn't that he wanted to get out of it, which he did, but he was worried about the aftermath. 

"Sunshine, you're always trying to get me to share things with you. And when I finally do, you are tentative. What's up with that?"

Wow, that was really observant. "Uh."

"Elucidate, Sunshine. You know, form one word after another. It's not that difficult."

Justin shot him a look. Despite everything, he was grateful for the sarcasm. Before he could elucidate as Brian had put it, he was granted a temporary reprieve when the man's cell phone rang. "Kinney." Justin handed him the earpiece so he didn't have to hold the phone as he drove.

"Hey, Doc. What's up?"

At Miranda's office, she leaned back in her chair and restrained herself from sighing. She'd only known him since they were both five. She'd been the first to see the bruises and know what was going on in the Kinney household. It had been she at age 10 that had let a bruised Brian in through her window. It was she who had bathed his forehead with a washcloth when the migraines first hit him due to a blow on his temple, courtesy of his dad. Hell, she was the one who suspected he had an ulcer. An ulcer before he became a teenager. Joan Kinney made Joan Crawford look like a saint.

"Brian Aidan Kinney. You want to tell me what the fuck is wrong?" Okay, so that wasn't the most professional thing she could've said but he could piss her off like no other person in her life.

"Nice to hear from you too," Brian snarked. He glanced at Justin and mouthed Miranda's name. "I needed an appointment. I'm bringing Justin with me. Never thought I'd hear you turn down paying clients."

Okay, that had Miranda wishing for a cigarette. So she rooted through her Dolce & Gabbana handbag for the engraved silver cigarette case and withdrew one. Lighting it, Miranda exhaled before saying, "Well, you know your money keeps me in Manolos and Gucci. Last I heard your money kept you in boys." Catty, she realized. But true.

That had Brian glaring and regretting mentioning to her the nights he'd fucked a substitute for Justin. "Nice, Miranda. Real fucking nice."

Recognizing she'd hit a nerve, she switched topics, "Brian, I'll want to talk to you first. And then talk to both you and Justin. How are you doing?"

"I met Lindsay today at the cemetery," Brian said. "Doc, I'm not going to have to pay you for this telephone consultation, am I?"

She laughed. "I'll tack it on to your next bill. No, seriously, I'll see you at three-thirty. Bri, remember that I know things about you that your partner doesn't know. Things Michael doesn't know. Later."

He did and that simple fact terrified him. It occurred to him to wonder what secrets Miranda might divulge and then he realized that it would be covered under patient confidentiality. "Later."

"Well?"

"Jesus. She wants to talk to me first and then talk to you. I think you'll like her."

"Uh huh." So he was skeptical. He had a right to be wary. It wasn't as if he'd had the best experience talking to shrinks. 

"Just do this for me. Please." Brian said. He couldn't stop thinking about the vision at the cemetery. Yeah, he figured it was due to sleep deprivation and emotional exhaustion but it had him wondering. After all he was of Celtic and Irish heritage. Second sight was all too common but he'd always considered himself way too pragmatic to believe in that. Considered it hokey bullshit to entertain naïve children with at bedtime. "You want to go anywhere?" He realized he was uncomfortable and didn't particularly want to go home just yet

He tossed the cigarette out the window as Justin waited. Then, he said, "Uh, Brian. I was thinking about sketching you."

Brian turned onto Tremont and stopped the `vette in front of their building. He faced Justin. "Why don't you want to draw yourself?"

Because I don't know who I am anymore. "You've always been my favorite subject."

This was true, Brian conceded. "Let me think about it."

"That's a no."

Exasperation evident in his tone, "It's not a no. It's an I'll think about it. If I was turning you down flat, you'd know."

Since that was true also, Justin smiled. It wasn'tt as radiant as his usual Sunshine smile but it was a start. Christ, what have I done to you? Brian wondered. Where did the young man go who had lights dancing in his eyes? When did you begin to change? Harden, he wondered, realizing that in a lot of ways the ebullient Justin was gone.

Once in the loft, Brian pushed the answering machine button. "Okay, Brian. Where the fuck are you?"Mikey whined.

"Brian, you've got that concept presentation for Brown in a week. We really need your thoughts on it. And you need to consider expanding your portfolio." Ted.

"Just calling to confirm our lunch. Hi, honey."Jennifer.

Delete. Delete. Delete.

Justin had disappeared into the bathroom, emerging in a FCUK t-shirt that was tighter than Brian remembered it being. He bit his lip. "Justin."

He turned to him, questioning look in his eyes. "Lindz asked me why you don't let me go down on you. I told her that it is because you don't think it's fair when I can't get off."

"True."

"What if I told you that more than anything right now I want to eat your ass? I want to taste your cock. Lick your balls clean after you've shot your load." He was well aware that he was close to begging and it wasn't something he did gracefully. Dancing in the flames left you susceptible to getting burned.

"I'd say it was cruel and unusual punishment. For you."

Brian stalked towards him, a lion scenting out his prey. He tossed the shirt near the bedroom then began to pull the t-shirt over his chest. Realized that he was about to put himself in Justin's hands and he was fucking terrified. Wondered for a moment if this was how Justin had felt after the bashing. If he'd been scared, thought that he was no longer beautiful and perfect in Brian's eyes. His hands went down to the buttons of his jeans and he was about to push them over his hips when Justin's softly spoken words stopped him. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I want you to see me." And it was true. He wanted more than anything for Justin to see him as he was now. That wasn't to say he was unaware of the fact that it would be making him more vulnerable than he was comfortable being. Brian stepped out of the jeans, then walked up the stairs, aware of Justin's eyes on him, following his every movement. 

He lay down on the bed and waited as Justin crawled up next to him. Brian's eyes had darkened to a color akin to storm cloud gray. He hooked his fingers in the briefs and raised his hips as he began to draw them down. Justin's voice stopped him. "Brian, are you sure?" He certainly didn't want Brian to do anything he wasn't ready to do. Knew that would be more damaging to Brian's psyche than anything else and would surely cause resentment later.

Brian hesitated, looking directly into Justin's open blue eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure," his voice was incredibly soft, his own eyes guarded.

He fully removed the briefs and tossed them in a corner of the room. He shut his eyes as he felt Justin straddle him, knees on either side of his hips. It took serious control for him not to leap off the bed and seek refuge in the bathroom. But he felt Justin's hand gently cup his balls, felt a finger trace the scar on his sac, and he couldn't help hissing, before forcing himself to relax. Brian felt Justin hesitate then heard him say, "You trust me, don't you? You know that I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, right?"

Brian couldn't say anything. He felt Justin touch the ball that was artificial. "Feels different doesn't it. Plastic feels different." When the doctor had shown him the prosthetic balls, he'd carefully determined the one most similar to his own size and heft. Though he knew it wasn't a direct match. Understanding that he was losing something integral to his very existence.

"No. It feels like you." And it did. Same size just a different texture.

Brian felt Justin drape himself fully clothed over him and opened his eyes hesitantly. "You know, I believe this is one of the few times we've done this without it being some kind of sexual foreplay."

"I love you, Brian."

Brian met his eyes. "So you're really okay with this?"

"Yeah, I'm really okay with this. I don't love you because of your balls. I love you. The man not the appendages."

"The reason I probably can't fuck you right now is more psychological than physical, Justin. It's more a matter of me feeling less than whole than a physical reaction to the radiation."

Since he'd recently brushed up on the Kinney Operating Manual, courtesy of Michael, he simply nodded. "So we take it slow. Easy. No pressure. No hurry."

"You know it wouldn't hurt if you'd jack off in front of me every once in a while. If you'd let me at least taste you. Maybe then I wouldn't keep seeing images of the doctor popping my diseased ball out into a kidney tray."

Justin's eyes became wide. "Are you having nightmares?" He knew all about nightmares. It had only been Brian who sat up with him when he had flashbacks of the night he'd gotten hurt. He still didn't fully remember that night but he had nightmares every so often.

"Yeah," he admitted, knowing it cost him something. "I wake up in a cold sweat. I keep seeing Vic. Like someone up there is trying to tell me something about my life."

He wasn't sure how to respond to that. It wasn't like Brian to take a spiritual view at anything. "Maybe you should hit the baths too."

It wasn't as if the thought hadn't occurred to Brian but he dismissed it. "I'm not ready."

"You could go and wear a towel, stroking yourself underneath, see if you can get turned on. I've always enjoyed watching you bring yourself off. See all those hot guys."

"Why, Sunshine, is that a kinky side of you?"he teased, though he got the point his partner was trying to make.

"I just want you to be happy. I'm okay with taking it slow, Brian. I can wait until you're ready." Like you did for me after the bashing.

"I just don't want you to resent me because I am unable to fuck you. If you need to hit the backroom or the baths, go ahead." I hate making that suggestion even though I knew that he won't do it.

"I don't. I couldn't. I remember how hard it was on you when I couldn't bear to be touched, how that hurt you." Justin remembered the hurt look in Brian's eyes when he'd backed away from him, shied away from being touched. "Contrary to what others may think about us, our relationship is not all about the sex between us, Brian. It never has been."

Justin slid down his body and Brian inhaled as he felt Justin gently kiss him, tongue tracing the scar. "I'm not gonna hurt you," he said, feeling the slight hitch in Brian's breath.

"Promise?" he asked, the word leaving his mouth before he had a chance to think about the repercussions. Damn, I never used to be this needy.

"Yeah, I promise."

Brian drew him up, kissed the top of his head, and said, "I may never be able to say the words to you, Justin."

"Brian, I know." Strangely enough, he was okay with that.

"Set the alarm for three," Brian said, "I think we both need a nap after last night."

"Guess we're both getting old," Justin teased, relieved to see Brian smirk. He set the clock and lay his head down on Brian's chest, head tucked under his chin. "Cause only babies and old men nap."

"Forever young," Brian reminded him. It felt good, more than that, it felt right having Justin in his arms. When did this become as natural to me as breathing? He wondered, as he drifted off into sleep. 

Justin lay draped over Brian, arms wrapped around him. He never felt more safe and secure than he did when he was in Brian's arms. It occurred to him that Brian perhaps felt the same. And that in some ways he needed Justin more now than he ever had before.


	15. Acknowledging Fears

Oddly enough, Justin awakened first; his sleep disturbed by a dream he couldn’t remember. He glanced at the naked, sleeping Brian and thought about beautiful he was despite his damaged self-image of himself. It occurred to him that most of Brian’s wounds were internal, some even self-inflicted. That the damage that had been done to his lover left scars too deep to ever heal. Even through his love and support. So he studied Brian, noticing the few new lines that he thought added character and realizing that Brian had gained a few pounds. His lean six foot three frame carried the few extra pounds well though he knew Brian would disagree vehemently. He prided himself on his body, on being the hottest man around.

Brian stirred as if he’d become aware of the attention. “Hey,” he said, voice coarsened by sleep. “What time is it?”

Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, he said, “We have an hour. We didn’t sleep very long.”

Brian looked at him, saw his own weariness mirrored in Justin’s eyes. “You could sleep at Daphne’s tonight. I know you need your sleep.”

Justin looked at him. “As do you. I’m not the one who gets cranky.”

“Excuse me?” Brian laughed. “You are too the one who gets cranky. I, at least, have had years of surviving on three or less hours of sleep. All those nights I spent fucking until dawn were great practice.”

“And what about those nights that you spend brooding on the sofa, looking out at the night?” Justin pointed out.

“How many of those nights did you join me, curling up against my side?” He said.

Justin acknowledged that. “‘Tis true, I suppose. We both have had our sleeping regimens disturbed.”

Brian nodded. “Justin, I—,” he began, and then cut himself off.

“What Brian?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” Just your image blurring, as if it’s an out of focus photo. That disturbed him. Justin had always been so clear to him. “I’m going to put on some clothes,” he said, stalking naked to the bathroom to piss. 

Justin was relieved to notice that Brian didn’t shut the door behind him as he’d done for the few days after the surgery when he didn’t want Justin to see him. Staring at Brian for a few moments, he stood and walked down the stairs, his steps leaden. He was acutely aware of what Brian’s unveiling had done; for him and for his lover. Things were changing between them, he knew. Events beyond their control were testing the durability of their relationship even as Brian continued to build new roadblocks.

Meanwhile, at an office downtown…

Miranda Jameson, Ph.D. sat behind her desk. She was a beautiful woman of thirty-three. She possessed earthy good looks and had once been likened to Drea de Matteo, the actress who portrayed the late Adriana on The Sopranos. Miranda considered that a compliment.

She straightened her desk, then rose to pull Brian’s chart from her filing cabinet. When she’d first taken him on as a patient, she’d worried about professional ethics. After all, she’d slept with him once. Eons ago. Still it was a prior relationship and a sexual one, at that. Although it had been a long time ago, she’d wondered about her ability to be impartial. 

It was true that Miranda knew things about Brian that a normal clinician wouldn’t. Brian, however, had made it easy for her. He was charming and almost clinical in his detachment. It struck her as somewhat sad that he was able to cloak his emotions so well. However, considering the climate of the Kinney household, she supposed it was simply a matter of survival. A method of employing self-preservation for a sensitive child who realized at a young age that he preferred men to girls. In the environment Brian grew up in, the guise of Catholicism cloaked a hypocrisy that was startling. A mother who found solace in a bottle of sherry or a vodka gimlet; a father who used his son as a punching bag on occasion. It was no wonder that Brian built a fortress about himself; a fortress that she’d once found analogous to that of Jericho. Loving someone left you open to pain in Brian’s view. He’d never really seen the good aspects of healthy love that weren’t accompanied with harsh words and violence.

As for Justin, his young lover, she considered, Brian was deeply conflicted about his feelings. Torn between deep feelings and the acute fear of being hurt again; of being left again. Again, not surprising given Brian’s upbringing. Living with an alcoholic mother and an abusive father was difficult for any child, much less a son who was reminded daily that his father had wanted him aborted. Because, as Brian put it, his father had not wanted “another fucking kid”. That his very existence was an accident; that his mother had given birth because she felt it her Catholic duty because abortion was a sin in her mind. Miranda found that interesting considering she hadn’t said a word when Jack went after Brian. Abortion and homosexuality was different, abhorrent in Joan Kinney’s opinion; yet child abuse was accepted as a private family matter. So no, Miranda had little sympathy for the other members of the Kinney family, including Claire. Miranda hadn’t attended Jack Kinney’s funeral because she found it ludicrous to mourn a man who had so damaged his son and was a tyrannical asshole.

On a personal level, she knew how susceptible he was to dark moods, deep black depressions, and suicidal thoughts. That Brian was not violent was a miracle in itself, she thought. Instead he channeled his frustration into a ruthless ambition in business and into sex. Aside from the physical ramifications of Brian’s lifestyle, she was concerned professionally about the impact on his psyche. Despite his façade of carelessly constructed sex appeal, he was still insecure on almost every level. Except one, she admitted. Brian’s approach to sex was systematic and, to a certain degree, predatory. Regardless of the fact that Justin had pursued him, Brian was seen as the sexual predator. With Justin it was different. When her patient spoke of Justin, he seemed lighter. Somehow freer.

Glancing at the Tiffany clock, Miranda sighed. Rising, she walked to her office door, opening it so that she could see her assistant at the front desk. “Isabella.”

“Yes, Miranda.”

Smiling, she said, “You can go home. Mr. Kinney is my last patient of the day.” That was deliberate; sessions with Brian tended to be intense for patient and therapist.

“Are you sure?”

Realizing what her assistant was too polite to ask, she said, “You’ll be paid for the full day, Isabella.”

“Thank you, Miranda.”

Nodding, Miranda returned to her office as Isabella closed down for the afternoon, putting the phone on the night system, so that it wouldn’t disturb her session. Sitting down behind her desk once more, Miranda waited for Brian and Justin’s arrival. She indulged in her own form of brooding, removing a cigarette from the lacquered box on her desk.

Back at the loft…

Justin waited as Brian emerged from the bathroom. He’d put back on his white t-shirt and jeans. Glancing at his silent lover, Justin could see the dark circles under his eyes clearer, evidence he hadn’t been sleeping much.

“You ready to go?” Brian said, avoiding Justin’s eyes.

Justin nodded, albeit reluctantly. He was resigned to the thought of another shrink’s office. This time, he thought, I won’t be giving an “I like dick” speech. “So is she like Melfi?”

Smiling, Brian said, “You watch too much TV, Sunshine. No, she kind of looks like Adriana though. Miranda would be right at home in Jersey. Trust me, you’ll like her.”

“Do I need to bring anything?”

“Not really. Unless you want to bring your sketchpad. Have I mentioned how grateful I am that you’re doing this?”

“Uh uh,” he sighed. “So you’ve known her since you were kids?”

“Yep. Since we were five,” Brian responded as they walked out the door. “She and I went to Saint Ignatius together up until the time I transferred.”

“So she graduated from a Catholic high school?” Justin picked up the thread of the conversation once they were in the Corvette.

“Uh huh,” he said, weaving into traffic. “Miranda was beautiful in high school and was self-possessed enough to know it. She worked it to her advantage, Justin. Getting straight, horny teenage boys to cream their shorts thinking about her. Inspired a lot of wet dreams.”

Intrigued by the notion of someone as innately sexual as Brian, he said, “So did she do more than tease?”

“She wasn’t a cock-tease, Sunshine. She had more self-respect than that. But she lost her virginity at fifteen in the back of a Trans Am.” He hesitated before saying, “It wasn’t to me. It was to some asshole football jock that had a tiny dick and couldn’t last longer than a minute. The proverbial one-minute man.”

Justin knew all about asshole football players. “You sound protective.”

“I am. I beat the shit out of a kid on the playground for throwing sand in her eyes. And when the guys started saying shit about me liking dick in high school, it was Miranda who came to my defense.” He remembered the times Miranda had stood up for him as much as he remembered the times he’d stood up for her. And it hadn’t been hiding behind a girl. “She served as my beard at a few church functions. By the time I was eighteen, I knew that I preferred cock to pussy. And you know the stories about me fucking everything that moves.” Even women.

Justin did. He’d only heard it a couple million times. “What about Michael?”

“Um, Michael.” Again a slight hesitation before he continued, “Let’s face it Michael’s a light-weight. He’d get the shit beat out of him and I’d have to jump in. Michael couldn’t stand up for me if my life depended on it.” And sometimes it had, he thought. Remembering the times he’d taken the blows for Michael when they’d gone down a wrong alley after leaving some after-hours sex club and ended up facing some drunk as shit breeder who didn’t like fags.

“So she was your Daphne?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. She’s seen me through a lot of shit.”

“So why wasn’t she at your dad’s funeral or his wake?”

Brian glanced at him. “Because she hated Jack as much as I did. She was there the nights that I was bruised and bloody, nursing a split lip because I didn’t eat my peas or take the fucking garbage out. She was there for me in the days when I didn’t have Michael or Debbie.”

“You love her,” Justin said quietly.

“She’s my oldest friend,” he said simply. But he knew what Justin was saying. “If I was straight, I’d have probably ended up with her. But instead we’re best friends and she’s like the female version of me. She’s as cock-hungry as I am.”

“I thought you said she experimented with Lindsay.”

“I did,” Brian answered. “It was a botched experiment though they both got off. Lindsay liked the experience more than Miranda.”

“Were you there?”

“Uh yeah. It was my very fucked-up idea. And I was stoned off my mind on some good shit I’d scored. But I fucked the shit out of some football player that night, reminding him just why he was a wide receiver.”

Justin laughed. “Okay, I get the point. Miranda’s been a good friend to you. And a good therapist because she knows you on levels I don’t. Like Michael doesn’t.”

Brian pulled into the parking lot and parked, asking, “Are you threatened by Michael?”

“No.”

Brian’s eyes narrowed. “You have me. I’m not going anywhere,” he pointed out. “And I love Mikey.” When Justin began to protest, he added, “As a friend. It’s not the same way I feel about you.” Too late he realized what he’d all but admitted. Fuck me, he thought. 

“Are you saying you love me?”

Sighing, Brian looked at his partner. “No. I’m saying I don’t know exactly what I feel. Just that my feelings for you are different from what I feel for Mikey. Or what I feel for Lindsay. Okay?” Christ on a stick, he thought. Is he going to let this drop? He wondered.

So it wasn’t an admission, Justin thought, feeling somewhat dejected. Still he nodded; understanding now was not the time to push. He looked at Brian. “Let’s do this thing,” Brian said.

Entering the converted Colonial, Justin noted that the office was not overwhelmingly female. There were female touches but it was muted, understated. The office was rather avant-garde. He could understand why Brian and Miranda were good friends. They were a lot alike, Justin thought.

Hearing the front door open, Miranda slid her feet back into her stiletto heels and walked out to greet Brian and his lover. Seeing Brian first, she noticed how tired and drawn he looked. Oh, God, she thought, he hasn’t been sleeping. That wasn’t a total surprise; after all, he suffered from insomnia. Her eyes going to Justin, she knew at once why her friend was drawn to the young man seated next to him. Brian, he’s exactly your type, she thought.

“Brian,” she said, voice soft.

“Hey, Doc.”

“Cut that out. You know that I’m the last person in the world you need to be formal with, Brian.” I’ve seen your dick on more than one occasion, she thought. Turning to the young man, she said, “Justin, I’m going to spend some time with Brian. Then, I’d like to talk to you. And then I’ll see you two together.”

Justin nodded. So far, he liked Miranda. She was straightforward and had a no-bullshit attitude. Brian’s description of her was appropriate.

Following Miranda back into her office, Brian closed the door behind him. Sitting in a chair that was innately masculine, he closed his eyes for a moment. “You okay, Brian?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “It’s been a trying few days.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

“I guess I have to.”

She nodded. “You know the way this works. You talk, I listen. Then I tell you what I think. And you wind up doing whatever you want to do.”

He opened his eyes. “You sound pissed, Doc.” Patting his pocket, he removed the pack of the cigarettes. “Mind if I smoke?”

“No,” she said, opening the window a slight bit. One of the benefits of not sharing an office was having the ability to set your own rules. It was why she liked being a sole practitioner. “Brian, I’m worried about you.”

“So is he.” Brian’s words were quiet.

She looked at him. “Have you told him everything?”

“He knows about the cancer. He knows about my dad and the cat. He knows about Sabrina. He doesn’t know about the time I got busted at that sex club or the fact that I walked out half-naked with some guy’s come on my lips. He doesn’t know that I hustled more than once to pay the bills so I wouldn’t have to scramble for cash. He knows a lot but he doesn’t know everything.”

“Slow down. Let’s back up. Last time we spoke, you’d kicked him out. What did you end up doing the night you kicked him out?”

Brian sighed. “I got high. I snorted a few lines and smoked a couple of joints.”

“Did it hurt you kicking him out?”

“Yeah, it fucking hurt. It hurt when I told him that he wasn’t my partner.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because it wasn’t any of his business. This was something I was going to handle on my own. I wasn’t going to burden him with any of this.”

“Even though it was you who helped him after he got bashed?”

His eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

“Do you doubt his feelings for you?”

Thinking of how he’d undressed in front of Justin and his lover’s reaction, Brian shook his head. “No, he loves me.”

“Is he just with you because of sex? Is it purely a physical relationship?”

“No. It’s not just fucking. The times we “fuck” are outweighed by the times we make love,” Brian admitted, knowing it was costing him something.

“So you admit that when you have sex with him it’s not just a way for you to get off?”

“Miranda, for Christ’s sake. I take the time to make sure he gets off. I go down on him as often as he does on me. I’m gentle and passionate. And I’m rough only when he’s willing and he’s agreeable.”

She glanced up from her notes. “When did having sex with Justin begin to change?”

Brian sighed, taking a deep breath. “Truthfully, after he got hurt. I wanted to take it slow because I knew that was what he needed.”

Shifting topics, she looked at him, recognizing how very uncomfortable he was with self-examination. “Brian, what else did you do after you kicked him out?”

“I stood in a hot shower until I pruned. I felt horrible. And it wasn’t just the radiation but the fact that my assault on Justin came out of left field. At least for him.”

“Why were you so angry?”

“We’ve been over this,” Brian said, irritated. But he answered. “Because he didn’t come to me. He didn’t talk to me when he found out. He didn’t come into the bathroom and say, ‘Brian, what’s going on?’ Instead he went to Mikey.”

Ah yes, Miranda thought. Michael Novotny, Brian’s fair-weather best friend. “Does it bother you that he went to Michael?”

Brian glared at her. “Yes, it fucking bothers me. Michael’s never given him good advice. Every time Justin’s talked to Michael about us it’s left us worse off than we were. He should have come to me.”

“Why should he have come to you?”

“Because I’m his partner.”

“And that matters to you?”

“Miranda, yeah. It matters to me. I changed my fucking will. I had papers drawn up giving him partial ownership of Kinnetik in the event something happens to me. I consider him a father to my son. He’s the reason I’m still breathing.”

“So are you saying that if he hadn’t come back, that you might have done something drastic?”

“No, I wouldn’t have cut my wrists or hung myself, Doc. I lost a ball not my mind.”

“Brian,” she admonished. “So you consider yourself his partner? And what does that role entail in your opinion?”

“We talk to each other. We fuck each other.”

“Love each other?”

“Yeah, I guess. Love to me doesn’t mean what it does to others. You know that.”

“Do you love him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Brian.”

“Miranda, I don’t know. He came back to me after the fucking fiddler. He waited a week to ride out my insane tantrum before coming back. But I don’t feel like I’m the cheese standing alone anymore. He’s got my back. So my feelings for Justin are complicated. He stood up to Claire.”

“Really?” That interested her.

Smiling, Brian said, “He called her a cunt. He reminded her that her asshole son accused me of molesting him and she believed him over me. Just because I like cock.”

“Are you glad that he’s back in your life? That he’s in your corner? That he loves you.”

Brian ground out the cigarette. “Yes, to all of the above. But I don’t feel like I can always count on Justin’s love.”

“Why? Is it because of the age difference?”

“Yeah, on some levels. Miranda, I cut back on tricks even before I got the diagnosis. Before the surgery, Justin brought home two hot guys for us to fuck. It occurred to me that sometimes he doesn’t get me.”

“And?”

“I like foursomes, Miranda. But that wasn’t what I needed. I needed him not some anonymous trick who was simply interested in my dick.”

“What did you end up doing?”

Brian sighed. “I left the loft and went to Kinnetik. I just couldn’t be there.”

“Why couldn’t you talk to him?”

“Because I was afraid I might tell him.”

“Tell him what, Brian?”

“Tell him how scared I was. Tell him that when Dr. Shane told me I had a lump in my ball, I felt the world go spinning out of control.”

“When you went to have the surgery in Baltimore how did you feel?”

“Alone.” Brian remembered lying on the operating table counting backwards from ten. “When I woke up in that hospital room, I wanted Justin.”

“So it was Justin you wanted? Not Michael. Or Lindsay. Or even me?”

“Yes,” he said in a near whisper. “It was Justin’s face I wanted to see. I wanted him. I missed him.” He remembered walking back into the diner and being hurt that Justin hadn’t been more excited to see him. 

“So why didn’t you trust him enough to tell him the truth? Why’d you lie about going to Ibiza?”

“Because I didn’t want him to stay with me out of some misguided sense of guilt. I lied about Ibiza because we made a stupid bet which I won on tenuous grounds at best. If he won, we’d go to Ibiza. If I won, he’d go back to school.”

“Is his going back to school important to you?”

“Yeah, I want to see Justin with a degree. I want to see him successful in his field. I want to see him with a future.”

“Do you feel guilty about him getting suspended?”

“No,” Brian said. “It was his idea to do the agit-prop posters against Stockwell. I participated because that homophobic asshole was closing down the backrooms and the sex clubs and the baths. Our whole fucking life was being taken away from us. I was pissed.”

“Okay, back to the topic at hand. What happened to cause him to come back?”

“I don’t know,” Brian said. “I kicked him out of Kinnetik, told him that if he came back I’d get a restraining order.”

“Would you have gotten the restraining order against him?”

“Probably not. I was pretty fucked up on pain meds. And I was trying to excise him out of my life as seamlessly as possible.”

“So what do you think happened?”

“Well, Mikey came by and reminded me that he was my partner and my lover. And that it was a shitty thing I was doing to him.”

Go, Mikey, she thought, for once applauding the other man’s actions. “And then what happened?”

“I kicked him out. Reminded him of his husband and kid. And then I curled up in a ball and went to sleep.”

“Did you think about what Michael said?”

“I thought it was pretty hypocritical considering how he vilifies Justin every chance he gets. He’s jealous of the connection Justin and I have. Doesn’t understand that it’s not just sexual. Justin gets me on levels Michael doesn’t.”

Sounds like you love him, Miranda thought. “So what happened next?”

“The next day I came home early from work because I was feeling like shit. I was planning on going to sleep and I opened the loft door and found Justin at the stove making me chicken soup.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Pissed. But, at the same time, relieved. I told him to get the fuck out, that I didn’t want him there. I went to throw him out but Justin fought me back. I ended up on the floor with him worried that he’d hurt me.”

“Had he hurt you?”

“Not physically, no. But I was raw emotionally. He was pissed at me because I hadn’t told him myself. He was angry that I thought I could handle it by myself.”

“Could you handle it by yourself?”

“No,” he admitted. “It was hard for me on those days when he wasn’t there to drag myself to the bathroom. The scar was still really tender and I’d drag myself to the bathroom, in excruciating pain. It hurt to piss.”

“What did he say?”

“He called me a motherfucking son of a bitch. And told me to eat some fucking soup.”

“Did you eat the soup?”

Brian nodded. “Yeah, I ate the soup.”

“You don’t like it when he gets pissed at you.”

“No, I don’t. But then sometimes it turns me on.”

“Did you let him stay?” Miranda asked, sensing that he was growing tired.

“Yeah,” Brian said. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“Not in as many words.”

“Were you relieved that someone was there to take care of you? That you didn’t have to cope on your own?”

“Yeah, I was glad he was there. That’s not to say that everything was easy between us because I’m a mean son of a bitch on a good day. But when I’m in pain, I’m an absolute asshole.”

“Here I thought Justin loves your asshole,” she joked.

Brian met her eyes. “He does. But he loves all of me. Warts and all. He doesn’t love the person he wants me to be but the person I am.”

“Does that make a difference?”

“Yeah, Michael sees me as some superhero he once idealized. Lindsay sees me as Gus’s father and she once wanted the stereotypical American dream with me, the whole nine yards. But Justin sees past all that to me. He got angry with me when everyone else would have said, oh poor Brian. Instead he called me names and yelled at me. He didn’t let me push him off the cliff again. He stood and fought for me.”

“That matters to you.”

“Hell, yes, it matters. It matters that he’s the only person in my life who has ever fought for me. Thought I mattered.”

“What about me? And Michael? And Lindsay?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because Justin fell in love with me before he really knew me. You and Michael and Lindsay all love me but it’s different. With Justin I have the whole package.”

“The whole package being?”she prodded.

“Sex, communication, at least at times. We’re friends. He knows that I like to watch old westerns and that I am a huge Brando fan. He smokes pot with me even though he knows I tend to get silly. He knows when I need to talk and when not to press. He’ll get up in the middle of the night and find me in the living room and just sit there with me. He’ll cover me up with a blanket. He’ll spend hours making out with me until our lips are bruised and tender. Justin’s there for me when I need him.”

“Do you miss being with him?”

“You mean, do I miss fucking him?”

Miranda nodded. “Yeah. It bothers me that I’m unable to express my feelings to him. It amazes me that he’s willing to be patient.”

“How did it feel when you were naked before him?”

“Like I was standing on the gangplank faced with a dozen angry Pirates armed with swords about to run me through.”

“How did he react?”

Brian looked at her. “He kissed and licked the scar. Told me it didn’t matter to him.”

“Do you think he was lying?”

“No, I think that he loves me. He didn’t go running for the door. He stayed there and made sure I was ready. He didn’t want to force me into doing anything I didn’t want to do.”

“And when you’re ready? Are you going to hit the backroom with some anonymous trick?”

Brian slowly shook his head. “No, when I’m able to get it up, there’s only one person I’d call.”

“That person is?” she gently prodded him.

“Justin,” he ground out. “I want to fuck him. I don’t want to experience the first time I can get it up again with a total stranger.”

“Is it because you fear being rejected? Think of yourself as not whole?”

“On some level, yeah.”

“Do you think he feels any residual guilt?”

“For what?”

“Do you think it’s possible he feels guilty that he wasn’t the one who discovered the lump in your testicle, Brian? That maybe that’s why he didn’t come to you when he found out.”

Brian stared at her. “I’d have handled things differently if Justin had been going down on me and found the lump. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t wish it had been him instead of a trick. So yeah it’s possible he feels guilty. If it had been Justin that found the lump in my ball, I’d have taken him with me to the doctor. And to Baltimore. It would have been different if Justin had been sucking my dick and found the imperfection in my ball.”

Miranda set her notepad down and looked at him. “Brian, do you resent the fact that it wasn’t Justin that found the lump?”

It was a thought he didn’t like. His answer was long in coming. “Yeah, I guess so. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have this fucking disease. In a perfect world it would be my partner who found the lump. Justin spends a lot of time on his knees worshiping my dick and balls, Miranda. If anyone should have found the lump it should’ve been him.”

“Sounds like you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry at him. This is something beyond our control.”

“You keep referring to him as your partner. Is that how you view him?”

“Yeah,” Brian said. “I consider him my partner. We’re never gonna walk down an aisle but, in all the ways that matter, Justin’s my partner. My lover. And I’m not going to wax philosophic about this or turn into a fucking dyke.”

She had to smile. “I think it’s time that I spoke to him.”

Brian nodded. He stood and looked at her. “Be gentle.”

“I understand. But somehow I think you’re the Ming vase and he’s the Tupperware.”

“Interesting analogy, Doc,” Brian said. But he got her point. Looking back at her before he opened the door he said, “Miranda, thanks.”

“Any time, Kinney. Any time.” She smiled at him. Somehow she thought he’d be okay though there were still issues he had to go through. She looked at her notes as Justin walked through her door, looking like a puppy expecting to be kicked. She suppressed a smile. Well, she thought, session with Taylor, # 1.


	16. Acknowledging Fears

Author's Note: There's a bit more background in this session because the doctor's talking to Justin about his relationship with Brian. But I try to wade through it. Anyway, reviews are highly regarded. This is the 2nd part of three. The last session will be Brian and Justin together.

* * *

Sitting alone in the waiting room had given Justin time to think. It had been a rough couple of days. He still didn’t know what his ex wanted, his current lover had a dead daughter he’d never heard about until the night before, and now there was a best friend he’d never heard Brian mention. As Pittsburgh Turns, he thought.

When Brian walked out of the office, Justin noticed how he looked. “You okay?”

Mute, Brian only nodded. He couldn’t talk. “She’ll see you now.”

Okay, he thought, at least he’s not talking in monosyllables. He stood and walked to the door, glancing back at Brian. He knew his reluctance was nearly palpable. But he knew how important this was to Brian. For Brian, he thought, gathering courage.

“Hello, Justin. It’s nice to finally meet you,” Miranda said, as the door closed behind the younger man.

Has he talked about me before? Justin wondered. He gave a tentative smile. “So what do you want to know?”

“Start at the beginning.”

He looked at her. “The very beginning?”

“Well give me the Cliff’s Notes version,” she amended. “You know that what I talked about with Brian is protected so I can’t tell you about that.”

Justin nodded. Leaning back in the chair, Miranda noticed how different their reaction was. “I realized I was gay when I was sixteen. I got hard seeing images of the guys in magazines and then in the locker room. I’d see a well-hung guy and imagine going down on him. I fingered my hole at night when the house was sleeping until I was able to fit two in my hole.”

To her credit, Miranda didn’t display any visible reaction. “Did you have any experience with that?”

“No,” Justin said. “My right hand was my only experience. I jerked off a lot. My best friend Daphne was the first person I told I was gay.”

“When did you decide that you wanted to do something about it?”

“Senior year. I was seventeen and horny.”

“Where did you go?”

“Um, you know all this. Brian’s told you about this.”

Miranda smiled at him. “Yes, but I want to get your impressions. Brian has his own views and biases of the events. I want to hear your side of the story.”

“Well, I went down to Liberty Avenue. I knew it was the gay part of town. I knew if I wanted an introduction that was where I needed to be.”

“Were you scared?”

“Shitless,” Justin said, remembering how nervous he’d been standing in Brian’s loft that first night. “But I wanted to get laid. I remember approaching some older guy and getting a rundown of the clubs. Then he told me to go home to my mommy because it was a school night.”

She could imagine this incredibly well-possessed young man being told that. But she let Justin continue with his side of the story. “I walked away and ended up standing under a streetlight. I was debating whether or not to just go home.”

“What happened next?”

“Brian walked out of the club. He started to get into his jeep and then stopped as he looked at me. He asked me if I’d had a busy night. He was the hottest guy I’d ever seen,” Justin remembered.

“So you were immediately attracted to him?”

“Hell, yes. He dumped his friends and took me back to his loft.”

“What happened then?”

Justin looked at her. “Miranda, you really do know all of this.”

“I want to hear your impressions of that first night then we can fast-forward. I don’t need to hear about every single time you and Brian fucked.”

Hearing her say fuck made Justin smile. Seeing the reaction, she said, “I’m not your typical shrink. You can say anything you want to me, within reason. You don’t have to censor your thoughts or feelings or reactions. I’ve seen Brian naked, remember. I know he’s well-hung.”

Justin nodded. “He stripped off his shirt then went to the fridge to get a bottle of water. He poured it on himself and then shook his head, water droplets beading on his face and chest.”

“What did you want to do?”

“I wanted to see his dick. You want the blow-by-blow?’

Oh yeah she could definitely see why Brian was drawn to this young man. “Not every little detail but the main structure of the night’s events.”

Shrugging, Justin continued. “He asked me if I liked Special K. I was so fucking naïve I thought he was talking about cereal.”

“When did you realize he meant ketamine?” Brian, she thought. It’s a wonder you never overdosed.

“When he said that he didn’t mean the kind you eat with milk and bananas. Then I started babbling about my allergies, how I’m allergic to Tylenol and codeine.” Remembering that first night, Justin began to get into the story. “He asked me if I was going or coming and then going or coming and staying. I don’t think he realized how I’d interpret the last part of that statement. I told him I was coming and staying then I stepped towards him, tossing away my shirt.”

“Were you turned on at this point?”

“Um, yeah. I initiated a kiss which Brian returned, cupping my balls with his hand as he drew me up against him. So I could feel his hard-on pressing through his jeans.”

“Did you want him to fuck you?”

“Yeah,” Justin said. “We wound up in the bedroom with me naked on my back with Brian jacking me off, asking me about positions and what I liked to do in bed.”

“What did you say?”

“Again I was clueless. I went on about Tomb Raider and other stuff and then Brian finally said something about whether or not I liked rimming. I said sure even though I had no idea what the hell that was.”

“So even though you knew you liked men you were still a bit naïve about the particulars of homosexual sex.”

“Yeah, I guess I was. I mean I knew about oral sex and anal sex but the other things that men do to each other I was pretty much in the dark. I must have seemed like an ignorant fool to Brian.”

“Go on.”

“Brian continued to jack me off and then the phone rang. It was Melanie telling him that Lindsay had gone into labor. I didn’t know about them at this point. Hell, I didn’t even know Brian’s name. I was about to shoot and I kept trying to get Brian’s attention but he was deep in the conversation. When I shot my load, he was pissed. Then he called Michael to tell him that Gus had been born. So Brian returned to the bedroom telling me I needed to go. I’d pulled on my shirt and was just about to get dressed when I blurted out something about my parents’ thinking I was at a friend’s house.”

“How’d he respond?”

“He asked me how old I was,” he said, remembering the missile launch conversation. “Finally I told him I was seventeen.”

“Did you know how old Brian was?”

“Not for a while. I didn’t know he was twenty-nine at that point. He asked me if it was my first time. I told him yes. He told me about walking into the shower with all his clothes on and sucking the coach off but that he didn’t remember anymore about it.”

It occurred to Miranda that after four years Brian still didn’t trust Justin enough to tell him the whole truth about the events of that fateful day. And it wasn’t up to her to reveal it.

“So you two went to the hospital?”

“Yeah, we picked up Michael. I named Gus and then Brian and Michael came back down from the roof. We left and Brian and I sat in the backseat. He was flying on something when he came back down, E. Anyway, he started to go down on me when Michael swerved to hit a phantom dog. Brian was pissed. Michael said that I was going home and Brian said I was going home with him.”

“What did you end up deciding?”

“That there was no chance in hell that I wasn’t going with Brian. Michael was pissed. It was obvious even then that he was jealous and possessive.”

“What happened when you got back to the loft?”

“Brian went down on me, giving me the greatest orgasm I’d ever had. When we finally reached the bedroom, he told me to lie on my stomach. He proceeded to rim me. Then finally he fucked me.”

“Was it what you expected?”

“It hurt a bit but yeah I wanted to feel the fullness of Brian’s dick up my ass. There’s nothing like feeling him hitting your prostate on every stroke.”

“Did he say anything to you while he was fucking you?”

Justin stared at her. Is it possible that Brian told her what he denied ever saying? “Um, he told me he loved me when he was about to shoot. We spent the rest of the night fucking. He taught me how to give him a blow job. Told me that we’d have to save rimming for another time.”

“So when they dropped you off at school the next morning you thought you’d see Brian again?”

“Yeah,” Justin said. “I told Daphne I’d seen the face of God and his name was Brian Kinney.”

It took effort for her not to laugh. “Does Brian know you likened him to God?”

“No. He has a big enough ego as it is. He doesn’t need a God complex.”

At that, she did laugh. “Okay, you’ve got a good sense of humor. Let’s fast forward to you leaving him.”

“You don’t want to talk about the bashing?”

“Not in this session, no. And I’m going to refer you to someone. It’s not ethical for me to see both of you.”

“What about joint sessions? Couples therapy?”

“I thought you were reluctant about this whole talking to shrink thing.”

“I care about Brian. I think we need help with this whole relationship thing. Neither one of us came from the greatest family background. But mine was a whole lot better than Brian’s.”

Miranda nodded. “I’ll think about it,” her response was non-committal.

Realizing that was all he was going to get, he nodded. “For my nineteenth birthday, Lindsay and Melanie took me to see a violin recital. Brian felt that birthdays weren’t a reason for celebration. I didn’t understand that at the time but I do now. So at the recital I met Ethan.”

“Were you immediately attracted to him?”

“No, I thought he was brilliant player. But I loved Brian. And I didn’t think he was gay.”

“When you returned home that night what happened?”

“Brian said he had a surprise for me. I think I said no fucking way. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually done something when he’d been so vehement about not celebrating.”

“Had Brian done something?”

“Yeah,” Justin said, pain creeping into his voice. “He bought me a hustler.”

“Were you upset?”

“Yeah, I was hurt. I didn’t want roses or a big show from Brian. A card would’ve been nice. But I didn’t want to come home and fuck a hustler. I wanted to be with him.”

“Did you tell Brian that?”

“This is Brian we’re talking about,” he reminded her. “No, I didn’t tell him. I knew he’d probably spent between three and five hundred bucks on this guy.”

“Was the hustler attractive?” Miranda asked, appalled that Brian thought this was a good choice.

“He was okay. Not hot. Well-hung,” Justin said.

“Did you wind up fucking him?”

“Yeah,” Justin said, remembering it as one of the least pleasurable experiences of his life.

“What did Brian do while you fucked the hustler?”

“Stood in the corner of the room and jacked off.”

“Did you want him to participate? Turn it into a threesome?”

“No. I wanted to come and then get the guy out of the loft as quickly as possible.”

“Did you tell Brian how it hurt you?”

“No, I didn’t want to seem ungrateful. Besides, I got off and the hustler got off.”

Miranda looked at him. “Justin, we can take a break if you want to. I know rehashing all this is difficult.”

“We haven’t gotten to the painful stuff yet. And we still have the cancer to talk about. I’m fine.”

“You want a cigarette or anything?”

“Um yeah. I could use the nicotine.”

Handing him a cigarette, she waited as he lit it. Taking a deep pull on the cigarette, Justin sat back in his chair. “When did you first go to Ethan?”

“After the birthday. I was upset that my boyfriend thought a hustler was an appropriate birthday present.”

“Did you wind up sleeping with him?”

“Yes.”

“Did Brian find out?”

“Yes.”

“How did Brian find out?”

“Michael saw me kissing Ethan on the street. He told Brian that I was cheating on him.”

“Had Brian seemed suspicious before that?”

“I think he knew something was up. I’d come in and shower before I’d be with him.”

“Did you two have rules?”

“Yes. One of those was no repeats, another was no names and numbers exchanged.”

“Who came up with these rules?”

“I did.”

“So it was you who broke them? Not Brian.”

Justin stared at her. He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m the one who broke them. I broke them when I went to a party at Daphne’s and fucked this other boy. It was his first time and I went slow. I kissed him.”

“Was that against the rules?”

“Yes. I’d made up that rule because it bothered me seeing Brian kiss Michael.”

Miranda sighed. “Okay, let’s fast forward to the night of the Rage party.”

“Were you intending on leaving that night with Ethan?”

“No. I intended to break it off with Ethan because I loved Brian. Brian was my boyfriend.”

“What happened to change that?”

“One of our friends told me that Brian wanted to see me. When I went back to find him I found Brian fucking the actor playing Rage.”

“Were you hurt?”

“Yeah. I figured that I didn’t matter to Brian.”

“What happened then?”

“I walked back out to the crowd and saw Ethan there. Brian had come out behind me and we looked at each other. Brian lifted up his mask and I could see the pain in his eyes. But he didn’t say anything. I went to Ethan and kissed him and then walked out with him.”

“Did you think that you’d hurt Brian?”

“I thought I’d hurt his pride.”

“And now?”

“I think I cut him to the quick. I could have handled things differently. I shouldn’t have left him in front of all those people without talking to him.”

“Were you still in love with him?”

“Yes. I think I’ll always be in love with Brian.”

“It didn’t last long with Ethan. Why was that?”

“He cheated on me with some groupie he’d met at a concert in Harrisburg.”

“Why did Ethan’s infidelity bother you so much?”

“Because he had made me a promise. He gave me a ring. He told me he loved me.”

“Has Brian ever said those words to you?”

“Not those exact words, no. But I know he does. We couldn’t have been through the things we’ve been through if we didn’t love each other.”

Since she agreed, Miranda nodded. “When you got back together was it easy?”

“No. That first weekend we barely stirred out of bed. We fucked each other till it was hard for me to walk. But we had shit to work through. Our reconciliation wasn’t easy for either of us. I hurt him and I felt guilty for hurting him.”

“So Brian was in control?”

“Yeah. In my relationship with Ethan I was the top. But with Brian, I’ve nearly always been the bottom. He calls me his bossy bottom.”

“Do you mind being the submissive?”

“No. I said I love it when Brian fucks me. For a long time, it bothered me that he didn’t let me top more but I don’t mind riding him.”

She smiled. “You love him.”

“More than my life.”

Interesting choice of words, she thought. “Okay, you two are partners, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Loosely defined partners. But yeah.”

“So are you two monogamous?”

“No. We’re free to fuck other men.”

“Have you?”

“Not recently, no.”

“Has Brian?”

“Not since before the surgery. I don’t know how often he was tricking before the diagnosis.”

“So when you found out he had cancer how did you feel?”

“Like the bottom was falling out of my world. Brian and I have fought too fucking long for this relationship for something like this to rip us apart. I felt angry and hurt that he didn’t tell me that he was sick. I felt like this was something you should share with your partner.”

“Did you feel guilty?” It was a variation on the same question she’d asked Brian.

“Guilty?” Then her meaning occurred to him. “Yeah, I feel guilty that it wasn’t me who found the lump in his testicle. I spend enough time going down on him that I should have noticed if something was amiss, if something was wrong with his sac.”

She noticed that his words mirrored Brian’s own. “So you feel guilty.”

“Yeah, I feel like I failed him somehow. That this was something I should have caught. This is something Brian shouldn’t have heard from a stranger who had just swallowed his load. It should have been someone who cared about more than the size of his dick who told him something like this. Someone who loves him.”

“Have you told Brian this?”

Justin shook his head. “No. I’m not with him out of some misguided sense of guilt or loyalty. I’m with him because I love him and he’s my lover. He’s my partner. Hell, he’s my whole fucking world at times.” Looking at her he continued, “I know it’s not healthy to be so fucking dependent on someone but at times it feels like we’re each other’s life blood. We’re just that connected.”

“What would you do if Brian died?”

Tears stood in Justin’s eyes. “Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d go on because I know he’d want me to. But I’d want to follow Brian right into that black oblivion. My life isn’t really worth shit without him in it.”

“But he frustrates you and irritates you.”

“Yeah, well love isn’t about never having to say you’re sorry. And Brian’s Brian. There are some people you turn away from and some you embrace. There are some you go after in a way that is balls to the wall because they’re worth it. He’s in the latter category. I’m the one he turned to after the Stockwell debacle. He could have kicked me out then for essentially fucking him out of a job but he didn’t. We stood and fought for something we believed in. I know he says that it’s because Stockwell was closing down the baths and the backrooms of the sex clubs but that’s not all there was to it. Deep down, he has an innate sense of right and wrong, a moral code. And he knew that our way of life was on its way to being disenfranchised. I’m strong without Brian. Brian’s strong without me. But together we’re a force to be reckoned with. We’re better together than we are apart.”

“Do you think he feels the same way?” She thought Brian would agree with that last statement.

He’d lost some of his momentum. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know about Sabrina until last night. I know very little about Brian’s past other than that I’m very glad his dad’s dead and can’t cause him any more pain. His mom’s no better. I think Brian has a very fucked up image of himself. When he holds up the mirror he sees someone he isn’t. He’s kind and compassionate. He’s giving. He feels things deeper than we give him credit for. I think he loves me. Whether or not he’s ever going to say it is another story.”

“Was his inability to tell you how he felt a contributing factor to you leaving him for Ethan?”

“Yes.”

“And now?”

“I forgot for a little while who Brian was. How Brian operates. I know he loves me. I wouldn’t have come back to him if I didn’t believe that.”

“So you’re willing to stand and fight for him?”

“Abso-fuckin-lutely.”

Miranda couldn’t help grinning. “You know I think Brian found his match.”

“You aren’t the first to say that, Doc. I fell in love with the man before I really knew him. I knew there was something I wanted in him more than I wanted his dick. Brian seems to live his life following his dick’s lead but there’s more to him than that.”

“So you love the man despite his faults?”

“No,” Justin corrected her. “I love the man because of his faults and his flaws. They’re what make him Brian.”

“So you’re willing to protect and defend him? Stand by him if he’s sick and when he’s healthy?”

“Yes.” He looked at her. “You know that sounds an awful lot like vows.”

“I know,” Miranda said, putting her pen down.

“You wouldn’t say this to Brian, would you?”

“Not in this exact way, no. He’s as perceptive as you, Justin. And Brian’s been hurt enough in his life. He doesn’t need more pain.”

“That’s what hurt me the most. When I left him, I think I forgot for a time just how much I’d be hurting him. That I was rejecting the core of his being. That I was rejected who he was. Brian needs to feel love even when he denies it as unimportant. He didn’t get that at home. I remember the way his mother so coldly dismissed him when she found out that he was gay.”

Miranda nodded. “What happened that day, Justin?”

“We’d been fucking nonstop for a while because I stole our friend Ted’s Viagra. Brian didn’t really need it because he’s like the Energizer bunny as is but I was feeling adventurous. We were just getting ready for another round when we heard a pounding on the door. It was his mom. Fastest way to get Brian to lose an erection is for a family member to show up. Anyway, I walked down the stairs and Mrs. Kinney clued in really fucking fast that I wasn’t Goldilocks. She told Brian he was going to hell. That she was ashamed of him. It hurt Brian. He was quiet for most of the afternoon. I let him be.”

“So you know what to do when Brian’s hurt?”

“Yes. I know when he needs space or when he needs me to be with him without saying anything. I know what to do when’s he’s been tree’d.”

Miranda nodded. She liked the way he phrased things. “Shall we call the lion in?”

“Uh huh.”

Brian was right, Justin acknowledged. He did like her. Going to the door, he beckoned Brian to come and join them.


	17. Acknowledging Fears

Miranda studied Brian as he rejoined them. He sat and then Justin moved to sit beside him. Meeting her gaze, he asked, with a lightness that did not fool anyone, “So, Doc, how fucked are we?” So far as jokes went it wasn’t his best. But Brian was tired and all he wanted was for this all to go far, far away.

“Well,” she began, looking cautiously at him as he shrugged. “You’re not ‘fucked’, Brian. Since you found out about the cancer you’ve been more distant, right?”

“I’m always distant,” he retorted. “Ask Justin.”

Justin gave a beleaguered sigh and met her eyes. He nodded. “More so than usual. But in the last couple of days he’s been pretty open.” Sharing because he has to not from any desire to tell me what’s bothering him. Because we all know that if Brian were feeling normal he’d have fucked me into oblivion rather than talk.

“Really?”

“Yeah, he’s been sharing his feelings. Not pushing me away even when he wants to. This shit is difficult.”

“Thank you for not saying hard, honey,” Brian drawled, sarcastically. He studied his hands and knew that Miranda was focusing her attention on him. “Because we both know that’s not happening any time soon.” Okay, I’m being a twat, Brian thought.

Oh fuck, Justin thought. His eyes filled with pain as he looked at Miranda. She met his eyes and nodded slightly. A shared camaraderie and concern for Brian in her eyes. “Brian,” she said.

He said quietly, “Yes.”

“Look at me,” she said, coming from out behind her desk. “Don’t just close down.”

“But it’s so easy. And we all know that I close things off.”

Miranda stood in front of him. “Kinney, look at me. Don’t do this.”

It was all Justin could do not to go to him, but he knew that he wasn’t what Brian needed. After all, Miranda was the professional. I’m just the lover, he thought, somewhat bitter. And he doesn’t trust me enough to tell me exactly what it is that’s bothering him.

“Brian,” Miranda said, gently reaching out a hand, jerking back when Brian flinched. She glanced at Justin and saw the realization wash over him with renewed guilt.

Shit. Shit. Shit. I knew the shit with the Pink Posse would come back to haunt us. Miranda looked at Justin with an expression on her face that could only be described as accusatory. “Brian,” Justin said softly. “Brian.”

“We never talked about the Pink Posse and Cody. We just went on like nothing had happened. Like that night didn’t change anything.” Brian’s voice was haunted.

Clueless, Miranda simply looked at her patient and his lover. “Someone explain what’s going on.” She said, trying her best to keep her voice even.

“Justin,” Brian prompted. “Why don’t you tell Miranda?”

He patted his jeans for the pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, he closed his eyes as Justin began to talk. He didn’t know when Miranda handed him an ashtray. Justin moved the chair away from Brian and said, “You remember when Shanda Leer got bashed?”

Miranda nodded; the news of the transvestite’s bashing had hit the newspapers and had even garnered local media coverage. It was the biggest thing since Stockwell’s fall from grace. She looked at Justin and he began to speak. “I was pissed off about it. I went to Eric’s house, that’s his real name, and tried to help him. I made him lunch and tried to encourage him to go down to the station and identify his bashers. He was understandably reluctant and I tried to talk him into it. He asked me when it happened to me what I did.” He avoided looking at Brian as he continued, “I told him I’d done nothing. That my basher got off with community service. That I tried to go on as if nothing had ever happened. Only it did.”

“Go on,” she encouraged him, still keeping a wary eye on Brian. He was much too quiet for her comfort. But this was a safe place for him, she reminded herself. If he fell apart it was better it was here than elsewhere.

“I was changed by that night. Brian and I were changed by that night. I lost a month of time trying to recoup some mobility in my hand and I don’t remember that night. That night was so important to both of us.” Justin’s voice quavered and Miranda gave him a sharp look. He shrugged and continued, “It took time for me to be able to accept anyone’s touch, even Brian’s. I still remember that look in his eyes when I pulled away from him when he was trying to make love to me.”

He glanced at his lover, half-expecting Brian to snap a, “I was going to fuck you,” comment at him. None was forthcoming and Justin forced himself to continue. “When Eric got bashed, it brought all those resurgent feelings to the surface. I was still so angry. Brian and I didn’t talk about the bashing. Instead we kissed or danced or fucked it away. Most usually we fucked it away because neither of us wanted to face it.”

“Brian,” Miranda tentatively inquired.

He took a drag and glanced up at her. “So far he’s right. About everything. Give him some time, Doc. He needs to do this. We need to do this.”

Why now? Justin wondered. Why the fuck does he need to do this now? Is it because of the cancer? But he continued, “I came home one night and was working on some sketches for the new issue of Rage. Brian came over and asked me why the heroes were suddenly the avengers of Gayopolis.”

At that Brian shut his eyes. This is too fucking hard, he thought. But Justin continued, “I was pissed and said that someone had to do something because the fags were too scared to do anything. I mentioned the Guernica, how the political statement is in a museum. He noticed my hand was hurting and began to massage it when I pulled away from him. Brian’s always been there for me, Miranda. Even when we were separated, Brian paid my tuition. He’d sit in my section at the diner and over-tip me. He hired me to do the posters for the Carnival. He’s fixed everything in my life. But this was something he couldn’t fix and it made me angry. I told him that he wasn’t the one who had been bashed.”

Suddenly Brian stood, a violent motion that toppled his chair over with a crash. He strode over to the door and flung it open. “Brian,” Miranda said, stunned.

Gathering his famous composure, Brian slowly turned back to face his lover and shrink. He looked at Justin and with agonizing clarity bit out the words, “You weren’t the only one hurt that night. I’m the one who cradled you in my arms thinking I was going to lose you. It took everything in me not to beat the shit out of that fucker, not to kill him. But I knew that if I did that and you made it that it wouldn’t make a fucking bit of difference. And if you died,” he was unable to finish the thought. He righted the chair and sank back down into it. “You want to know why I went to prom.”

Silently Justin nodded. “Miranda,” Brian said.

She nodded. Clearly the progression of this session had gotten out of her hands. Slowly Brian began to speak. “I turned thirty and all I could think about was how my life was meaningless. I had a job that paid me a shit-load of money; a fantastic loft; a dick that has fucked countless tricks. A son who I had signed my rights away to protect his mother. And I had you. The naïve eighteen-year-old kid who thought he was in love with me. The kid who had gone after a coworker after I nearly lost my career by fucking him. The kid who thought I was worth loving and didn’t see me as a fuck-up or a narcissistic asshole. Or at least loved me in spite of those qualities. I bought a Hermes scarf as a birthday present. I lay on the floor in the loft, smoking joint after joint, and drinking the bottle of Beam. My old faithful friend,” he said. “I stood a chair in the middle of the room and kept trying to get the scarf over the rafter. So when it did, I unbuttoned my jeans and stood on that fucking chair. I wrapped the scarf around my neck and began to beat off. Autoeroticism, Sunshine. Depriving oxygen flow to heighten orgasm. I was in mid-jerk when Michael ran in and pulled me down. I was pissed. I told him life not worth living if not take risks. I reminded him that I wanted to go out like Cobain or Hendrix or James Dean, always young, always beautiful. And he snapped at me that they’d always be dead. That’s when he said that I was Brian fucking Kinney for fuck’s sake. I didn’t know whether to be grateful to Michael or pissed off. All I knew was that something had to change.”

He looked at Justin. “I was scared shitless when I walked into your prom. I saw all those teenagers and knew they were wondering. I fucking outed you in front of God knows how many parents and we shared a dance. A beautiful dance that you can’t even remember.” It took all Brian’s control not to admit that he’d realized he loved him that night. That he was willing to give a relationship an actual try with Justin. That the stalker had turned into something more. “You and I made plans to go back to the loft that night. But you had to take Daphne home first, like a good date.”

“Is that when you told her that she looked hot and you’d fuck her?” Justin asked.

Brian nodded. “I made good on that promise, didn’t I?”

Miranda looked at her patient. “You fucked Justin’s best friend? Justin’s female best friend,” she could hardly hide that she was incredulous. Since Brian was eighteen, he’d pretty much declared men were his interest. Though, she recalled, I have fallen prey to the Kinney legend myself.

From somewhere deep inside, Brian pulled out his famous smirk. “Yes. And her boyfriend.”

“You never told me about this,” she said. 

“It was a floor show. A bet Sunshine and I made while we were playing Scrabble one afternoon. It was the week after we reconciled. We spent most of Saturday with Gus and then Saturday night in bed. One of the hottest experiences of our lives,” Brian said, remembering how it had felt. How it had felt knowing that he and Justin were being watched while they fucked each other. But he forced himself to remember the task at hand, so to speak.

He stopped and looked at his partner. Justin didn’t know whether to shout at him or cry. So he settled for an air of indifference that was wholly feigned. “You tried to commit suicide. Did you want to die?”

“Not then. I was kind of ambivalent about the whole thing of life and death. It didn’t matter much to me one way or the other. But when I thought I was going to lose you, all I could think about was that bottle of codeine on the top shelf of the cabinet and the straight razor blades that I keep secreted away.”

Miranda sent him a sharp look. Flirting with suicide was nothing new for Brian but the fact that he’d had a plan scared the shit out of her. She was terrified for him. “Brian. Do you still flirt with the idea of suicide?”

He turned to face her. “When I kicked you out, Sunshine, I got high. I knew I’d hurt you. That what I had said really hurt you as much as it pissed you off. The thought in the back of my mind was that death would be so much easier. Then I wouldn’t have to face this terrible fucking disease that had robbed me of an integral part of my existence. Then I remembered that this didn’t have to be the end of my life. So yeah, Doc, it’s still in the back of my mind. But it’s not something I contemplate on a daily basis. And don’t pull out the prescription pad because I won’t fucking take Prozac or Xanax or whatever the miracle cure is these days.”

She smiled at that. Seemed he was beginning to come back to himself. Stubborn fucker, she thought. Take the blue or the red pill, she thought. One pill makes you larger, the other makes you smaller.

Brian looked at Justin. “Tell her about that night. Tell her about the Pink Posse and Cody and Hobbs.”

Justin spared a glance at Miranda. “Miranda, you’re not bound to tell any law enforcement anything, are you?”

“Not unless I know a crime is going to be committed, then patient-doctor confidentiality is nullified.”

Breathing a little easier, Justin continued on with his narration. He glanced at Brian and was relieved when Brian moved his chair closer to him. “There was a meeting at the GLC. I attended and there was this young kid there who said that the queers needed to stand up for themselves because the straight cops weren’t going to do shit to protect us. Cody said we needed a vigilante group. He dubbed us the Pink Posse.”

“Seems that’d make you a target,” Miranda mused.

Brian smiled at her. “That’s what I said. That he was going out flirting with trouble or causing it.”

“I was still fucking pissed off,” Justin admitted. “I felt that we needed to do something. It’s like something just snapped in me. Like a valve that had been shut off just began to geyser; like I was a train that had lost its brakes. So after I told Brian he wasn’t the one who’d been bashed, I didn’t feel like I could talk to him. I felt like I was alone, that he couldn’t possibly understand this rage that had built up inside of me.”

You could have come to me, Brian thought. But this was something I couldn’t fix. Not even as much as I wanted to. This was something you needed to do for you. But Justin was still speaking so Brian brought his focus back to his young partner. “I went to Woody’s and ingratiated myself with Cody and his group. He called me Blondie and was fairly obvious that he didn’t think I was truly motivated by doing something. I told him that it was us who needed to do something and I found myself a part of the group.”

Miranda pulled out a cigarette of her own and lit one; Brian glanced at her, wryly amused. “Did you talk to Brian about it?”

“Not exactly. He wasn’t too thrilled about it. I reminded him that he’d saved our world from an evil politician but Brian said that he’d done that because he was closing down the backroom and the baths. This was something I needed to do I told him.”

“What happened the first night you went out with the Posse? Did you have a plan of action or were you just planning on winging it?” She was clear about just how dangerous this had been: both physically and emotionally.

“Winging it,” Justin replied. “We were walking down the street and these group of guys started talking shit, asking us if we wanted to suck their cocks. We went nuts, going after the car and pulling the door open. We pulled the passenger’s jeans down and then they drove off, with him half-naked.”

Brian bit his lip. He’d known it was bad but he’d have had a much different reaction if he’d known just how dangerous it was. He still remembered seeing the red marks on Justin’s back. “Is that the night you came home and we fucked each other until both of us were sore?”

“I thought you usually topped,” Miranda said.

“That night,” Brian said, looking down at his hands, “we fucked each other. That night it didn’t much matter what our typical positions were. I knew that he was pretty desperate. He blew into the loft like a hurricane, toeing off his sneakers, and coming at me. I was up for pretty much anything.”

“Do you usually start things?”

“Yeah, usually. But a lot of the time it’s mutual, us wanting each other so bad we can’t seem to wait. Riding a wave of need and lust. Sometimes the need just drives us and it’s primal between us. He pulled my belt free of my jeans and nearly took the skin off my chin. Then we were kissing and rocking together. We couldn’t seem to get close enough to each other as we fucked that night.”

“Justin?”

“I wanted him inside me. I was riding on adrenaline. That sense of power gave me a rush. And I wanted Brian. I wanted to possess Brian that night like he always possesses me.”

“Do you feel like you lose your identity when you’re with him?” 

That stopped them both short. Brian looked at him; Justin was silent for long moments. “Justin,” Brian prodded, not sure he wanted to hear this answer.

Justin averted his eyes before answering. “Sometimes I think people only think of me as Brian’s pet stud. That I lose who I am as a person because I’m with Brian. Being with a sex god has its downside. But it’s me that he pushes up against the wall in the backroom. It’s me that goes down on him in the backroom. In that zone, I exist for one purpose to give Brian pleasure. I love Brian. I love Brian’s cock, I love his balls, and I love drinking him dry but sometimes it feels like I’m nothing more than a sexual object.”

“Brian,” Miranda asked. “Are you OK?”

“Give me a minute here,” Brian said, fighting for control of his temper. Then he moved his chair so he was facing Justin, pulling him forward until their knees brushed. “Do you really feel that way? Like I use you when we’re together in the backroom? Because I seem to recall you pushing back against me, trying to get me to ride harder and deeper. To go faster. And it’s not just me that shoots, Justin. How many times have you splattered the wall at Babylon? How many times have you fucked the shit out of me until I’m begging you to make me come? You drive me to the brink, dirty boy. And it bothers me to have you devalue everything we are together.”

“You’re pissed.”

“Goddamn right, I’m pissed. Tell her about the night you wanted to top me. After you’d spent nearly the entire day with that sick fuck Cody at the boxing gym. Tell her about that night and see what she says, Justin.”

Justin hesitated. This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to go to the shrink with Brian. This was trotting out everything that was bad about their relationship and bringing it to the forefront. “Justin,” Miranda said, stunned by the afternoon’s revelations. She’d known it was going to be intense but even she hadn’t expected this.

“No,” Justin said. “I don’t want to talk about this. Brian, please.”

Brian glared at his lover. “No, we need to fucking talk about this. Because I put it behind me even though every instinct I had was telling me not to. That it was something that I never ever want to experience again. So you tell Miranda what happened that night. Or I will.”

“Brian.”

“Justin.”

Seeing his implacable expression, Justin knew he had no choice. This was bad, he realized. This was worse than when Brian had pushed him away telling him he needed to take a shower. He looked at Miranda. “I got home late one afternoon after spending the morning in the ring with Cody. He was teaching me sparring positions and how to deliver low jabs and right hooks. I’ve never been that physical, always been more cerebral, but something just came out inside of me. That night I went down on Brian. We were lying in bed and I indicated that I wanted to fuck him but Brian said no. I suggested we fight for it.”

“Fight for it?” she echoed.

Justin stared down at his hands, avoiding both her eyes and that of Brian’s. “We’ve always been fairly physical. Throwing me from one side of the bed to the other, that sort of thing. But I wanted something else that night. I pulled him up and we went down stairs. I was feinting and Brian was too. Then I delivered a blow that glanced off his jaw. And Brian, having an instinctive reaction, hit me back. Stunned we sort of stared at each other. We’d never hit each other before. I mean he’s spanked me before but that’s just in sexual play. And I felt guilty as hell.”

“Brian.”

Brian looked at his lover. “You forced me into a position that night where I had to respond. I know what it’s like to be powerless and have the shit kicked out of you. I experienced that with Jack and I remember what it was like having your father kick the shit out of me. But I never expected you to hit me. After I told you that story about me being four years old and Jack beating me, I never thought you’d hit me. When the loft was broken into, I thought about it. When you came home that night and realized I knew about Ethan, it crossed my mind. But I would never have done it. You backed me into a corner, Justin. I’ve always worked hard to suppress the violent side of my nature knowing how easy it is to unhinge me. Why do you think I focus all that energy into work and sex? It’s because I have Jack swimming through my veins. He may be dead but I’m still his blood.”

“What happened next, Brian?”

“Justin went into the bathroom. I stood in the living room for I don’t know how long. Then I went into the bathroom. He was staring at himself in the mirror, tears running down his face. I went to him and put my arms around him. I let him sob it out and when he was done I led him back to the bedroom. I lay down and handed him a condom.”

“Why did you do that?”

“If he needed to abuse someone or himself I felt it should be me. I’d always rather he focus his pain on me. But I’m not anyone’s punching bag. Not even yours, Sunshine. I waited for him to push into me because I wasn’t expecting any foreplay. I knew we’d escalated past that point, that something else was driving us and it wasn’t lust or desire. Or even the fact that I knew he loved me. I was willing to let him hurt me because I knew he was hurting.”

Silent tears coursed down Justin’s face. It had never occurred to him just how much damage he’d done to Brian. It had always been him. “What happened next?”

“Justin just lay down on top of me. I rolled us over and propped myself up on my arms looking down at him. I brushed a hair out of his eyes and then I kissed him. I tried to joke with him by asking if he was going to fuck me or not. He was quiet when he said not. He didn’t want to fuck me like that. Not when it would be by any means necessary. So instead we slept face to face that night with our arms around each other.”

“Justin?”

Justin’s voice was raw with pain. “I hated knowing that I’d caused the one person I love the most such tremendous pain. When I hit Brian, it wasn’t intentional. I wasn’t intending to make contact but I was like a pressure cooker, timed to explode. When he found me in the bathroom, I was in a state of shock. I’d hit Brian. Brian, the person who has experienced more physical violence than anyone should have to. Brian, who held me when the nightmares hit. It was Brian who gave me a second chance after I left him. And, by the way, Ethan showed up again this week. He came by the loft with Claire.”

He turned to look at Brian. “I love you, Brian. I can’t say that I won’t cause you pain again because we both know that’s a promise neither of us can keep. But I’ll never hit you again.”

“Can I tell you something?” Brian asked. “Something that you need to promise me you’ll won’t bring up outside of this room.”

Justin nodded. Brian glanced at Miranda and at Justin. “When you met me, I was an arrogant asshole who knew he could get any guy he wanted. I was notorious even among tops. Guys fought over me in the backroom. Competing for my dick and balls because no one ever had my ass. But when you walked into my life I felt like I’d met someone who I might, just might, be able to fall in love with. I’m not saying what you need me to say. I can’t say it. It’s not that I don’t want to say it because I do. It’s that there is some psychological reason I can’t tell you. But when you hit me that night, it reminded me of all the reasons Brian Aidan Kinney doesn’t do love. That loving someone causes pain. That it isn’t worth it. That I’m not worth it. I’ve hurt you, Justin. But you’ve hurt me. If I didn’t care, you wouldn’t have the ability to cause me to bleed like you do. Not even Mikey can hurt me like you.”

“But you were devastated when you and Mikey had that fight after his birthday party. You were at sea,” Justin pointed out.

“Did I ever tell you what I did after you left me? How I spent those first nights?”

Justin shook his head. “The night after the Rage party I went home. I lay awake until dawn, with my nose buried in your pillow because it still smelled of you. The clean you not the you that smelled of him. You left a jock and I jacked off into it, feeling somehow closer to you, knowing the fabric had cuddled your cock and balls. I could smell you on the fabric. And, you know what you were doing while I was doing that?”

“No,” he said quietly, unable to believe the depth of Brian’s pain. And the realization that they’d never talked about this before.

“You, Sunshine, were fucking Ethan. You were moving on with your life. Without me. When you left, you didn’t have the balls to talk to me. Instead you walked out on me in front of a crowd of people, basically saying “Fuck you” to me. It fucking hurt knowing that you chose the fiddler over me. Me, who you once said you loved more than your own life. Nobody has ever felt that way about me,” he said, raising a hand when Justin started to protest. “Not even Mikey. Because Mikey’s love for me is based on an adolescent dream. You fell in love with Brian Kinney, the man. Not the carefully constructed myth designed for the best possible appeal.”

“While you were having breakfast in bed with the fiddler, I went on to work and to the diner, knowing that I’d have to face you. But even when you came by to get your stuff you did it when you knew I wouldn’t be there. Was that because you didn’t want to see me or didn’t want me to see you? And that’s when I called Midnight Rendezvous, Sunshine. I ordered a 5’8” twink with blond hair and a perfectly formed butt. It didn’t have to be a bubble butt but close enough. I paid between $300-$500 bucks to fuck someone else so I didn’t have to remember what it was like being with you. And when I shot my load, it was you I was wishing I was fucking. So when I told you that it was none of your fucking business that I had cancer, I was remembering the careless way you left me for the fucking fiddler. I was remembering the nights you’d come in and race to that shower, smelling of someone else. Someone else’s cum on your skin. I knew you were strong enough to handle it but did it ever occur to you that I might not be strong enough to handle the thought of you walking out on me again? I get hurt, Justin. And when someone betrays me, I don’t forget. I’ve forgiven you but I haven’t forgotten that you left. I held to your fucking rules because I wanted a relationship with you. Yes, I said the fucking word. But you broke the rules and didn’t even realize that I had broken all my rules for you long ago. The nights you spent at my loft with me driving you home at 4:00 in the morning were breaking my rules. And when you hit me, it reminded me that once again the person who says he knows me the best doesn’t know me at all. That’s why I didn’t tell you I had cancer. That’s why I blew up at you about Ibiza. That’s why we’ll never get married, if I believed in that. It’s because no matter how much you say you love me and I believe you do, you’ll still walk out that door because I’m difficult.”

“Brian,” Justin said, tears coursing down his cheeks. 

“Don’t say it. Don’t fucking say it.”

Miranda sat there in stunned silence, knowing that she had long ago lost control of this runaway horse.

Brian wanted to cry but refused to allow himself the weakness. He stared at Justin, saw the pain in the blonde’s eyes and was reminded once again of just how young he was. “Why did you come back?”

“Why did you let me come back?” Justin shot back.

Brian stared at him, then stood. He walked to the window looking out at the street and said, “You first. Tell me why you came back.”

Justin stood and walked to join his lover. He gingerly wrapped his arms around Brian’s waist, half expecting the older man to push him away. Instead, Brian leaned back against him. The subtle move surprised Justin who tightened his arms around Brian.

“I came back because Michael told me that the reason you didn’t want me to see you was because you thought you were no longer perfect. That because you only had one ball I wouldn’t love you anymore. That I’d forgotten how to read the Brian Kinney Operating Manual. I came back because I love you. I know what it’s like to be hurt by you but I also remember how many times I’ve hurt you. It wasn’t easy for me when I went back to the loft to pick up my shit. I remembered you fucking me on the sofa; on the chaise lounge feeding each other ice cream; in the shower; me riding you on the bed; you fucking me up against a wall or against one of the columns. And I remembered the times you let me fuck you, letting me guide the rhythm. How many times you would take the sketch pad out of my hands and just go down on me, slowly working me to orgasm. Sharing my essence with me when we kissed. The memories haunted me. I handled our break-up badly; I admit that. But I didn’t come back from that coma the same person I was. I had different needs and I needed things from you that you couldn’t give.”

“But what about the things I did give you? Like the computer? And the art supplies? The endless hours I spent on that sofa while you sketched me.” Brian turned to face him, drawing him closer, so that Justin’s head rested under his chin. “Did you forget the times you would pour plum sauce on me and leisurely licked it off my body? Or the times when I would sit there holding you while you had a migraine? Justin, we can’t keep hurting each other. I’m no sadist. I need you to be there for me. I need to know that when I’m hurting I won’t turn around to find I’m looking for a ghost. If you can’t do that, then we’re fucked.”

Miranda could only watch. The time had slipped away from her and she was no longer worrying about billable hours or the fact that she hadn’t eaten for hours. She was entranced. She’d never seen Brian like this. She could only imagine what they were like when they were alone. Then it occurred to her; for all intents and purposes they’d forgotten about her.

“Um, Brian,” she began.

He met her eyes and she said, “I hate to do this. But it’s way past time. It’s nearly five.”

“You kicking us out, Doc?”

She reluctantly nodded. “You two have some stuff to work through.”

“You think?” he retorted sarcastically. “And this is what I pay you the big bucks to say.”

She smiled wryly at him. “If you’d let me finish, I was going to say that I think we have more stuff we need to talk about. And, Justin, I’m willing to continue to see you both in couples counseling. We kind of blew past the whole Pink Posse thing today. It’s clear to me that you and Brian have more to talk about on that subject. And the time you two were broken up.”

Brian stared at her. Then he returned to his chair, pulling out his checkbook. Slowly Miranda shook her head. She’d made a sudden decision. “No, Brian.” She shook her head. “No.”

“Well, Doc, it’s been an hour and a half. I owe you half a grand. Let me pay you.”

“No.”

“Miranda,” Brian began. “Let me pay your fucking fee. It’s not every day that you see me unload like that.” Not every day I open a fucking vein.

“Brian, I don’t want your money.”

He opened his checkbook and wrote out a check. Handing it to her, he kissed her cheek. “It’s your choice whether or not you cash it. But I think you’ve served your time today. You’ve earned it, kiddo.”

Miranda nodded. And it was Justin who said, “Thank you.” His tone was so soft, it was almost a whisper.

“Sonny Boy,” Brian said, tentatively. “Let’s go home.”

“Brian,” Miranda said. And he turned to her, eyes intent upon her face.

“I think I need to start seeing you twice a week.”

Starting to protest, he thought better of it and simply nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”

Stunned at the too easy acquiescence she merely met Justin’s eyes. The blond walked towards his lover and Miranda waited to see whether Brian would push him away or not. Because it was clear that they’d caused each other tremendous pain. Brian wrapped an arm around his waist and Justin returned the gesture. “Thanks, Doc.” Brian said.

Miranda watched them go, thinking that the road they traveled would never be easy. And it wasn’t because of the age difference, or because they were two men, but because they were who they were. Brian would never be an easy man to love and it was equally clear to her that he was desperately in love with the young blond. Enough in love to forgive an outbreak of physical violence, she thought, still surprised by that little fact.

Miranda sat behind her desk for a long while before pulling her tape recorder towards her and beginning to dictate. She’d long ago stopped taking notes but the session was fresh enough in her mind that it was easy to reconstruct. It was dark by the time she’d finished and she knew she’d have to leave Isabella a note to type up her session notes for Brian’s chart and to start a new one for Justin.


	18. Acknowledging Fears

Author's Note: Mr. Benson is a classic erotic novel within the gay genre written by John Preston. It is pretty much as I've described it in this story.

* * *

After the session, instead of heading towards the loft, Brian drove without direction, Justin silent beside him. Tentatively Justin laid a hand on his thigh and said, “Brian.”

“What?”

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know.”

And it hit Justin that Brian wasn’t just talking about the present moment. He was talking about the course of their relationship. He stared at his partner as Brian continued driving without much regard for destination. It was late when Brian finally pulled into a Motel 6. Justin stared at him; this was not a place Brian Kinney would ever stay. At least not willingly. Brian reached over him and opened the glove compartment, removing a box of condoms and a tube of lube. Not meeting Justin’s eyes, he said, “Get out.”

Hesitant but compliant, Justin followed him as Brian went to the reservation desk, returning moments later with a room key. “Brian,” Justin began.

“No talking. We’re just here to feel,” Brian said, voice distant. “No thinking, Sunshine.”

Once in the room, Justin saw to his relief that it was cleaner than he’d expected. But still rather grimy. Brian didn’t seem to care. He took off his shirt and unsnapped his jeans, revealing tufts of his chestnut pubes. He sat down on the bed and pulled off his boots, silently going through the motions. His jeans were the last to go, Brian tossing them carelessly on a chair. Finally he looked up at Justin and said, “You’re over-dressed.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I said you’re overdressed,” Brian said, his voice suddenly harsh.

“I’m not a slave, Brian.” Justin said, turning to go to the bathroom. He wasn’t going to play this game. He was stunned when he felt Brian whip him around.

“Don’t run away from me. Show some balls for once.” It was a sinister echo of the words he’d spoken only days before they’d reconciled.

Justin’s eyes met Brian’s. “Don’t do this,” Justin said, suddenly afraid. And he’d never truly been afraid of Brian. 

“You said that you felt like you were nothing more than a sex toy to me, didn’t you, Sunshine?”

“Don’t call me that,” Justin said, voice breathy. 

“What, Sunshine? Am I scaring you?”

Justin turned and sank down on the bed, head down, eyes downcast. How had things gone so bad so quick? When he looked up at Brian, it was with a challenging expression. He wants to play, so let’s play, Justin thought, with renewed resolve. “Who am I, Brian? Am I Jamie?”

For a second Brian looked confused and then he understood. And with the realization came the thought that by doing this he was damning both of them. “I guess I’m Mr. Benson,” Brian said.

“What do you want me to do, Master?” Justin said, not wanting to do this. This felt wrong. And being with Brian had never felt wrong before.

“I want you to show me what happens to bad little boys,” Brian said, voice dangerous. “I want you to take that cock of yours out and play with it. But I don’t want you to come. Not until I tell you that you can.”

“No,” Justin said, defiant. He wasn’t going to let Brian dominate him. Not like this, he thought. This was a dangerous slope and one he wasn’t willing to ski. “I’m not going to be your fuck slave, Brian. I’m not going to let you punish me for loving you.”

Suddenly Brian’s face hardened. “But you’re willing to punish me for caring about you. You’re willing to punish me for breaking all my own rules because you thought your own were more important. Where the fuck do you get off, Justin? And why am I the one to pay?”

Realizing he was dressed while Brian was naked, Justin became acutely aware of the vulnerability of the scene. “Let’s go home.”

“It’s not your home,” Brian pointed out. “It’s my home.”

Justin stared at him. “Then take me back to Daphne’s. For fuck’s sake, Brian, what do I have to do? Do you want me to leave you? Will that make things better? I’d give anything if I could take this away for you. But I’m not willing to have my identity subsumed into yours. I’m not just Brian Kinney’s pet fuck.”

“You’ve never been my pet fuck, Justin,” Brian spat out. He reached down for his jeans. “Do you remember that night when I came to get you in New York?”

“When we stayed in a Motel 6 because it was the only room Michael could get? Yeah, I remember.”

“Do you remember what happened that night?” Brian asked, his eyes finally meeting Justin’s.

All of them had shared a room; Brian and Justin sharing a bed. Slowly Justin nodded. “You slipped down under the covers and sucked me off. And then you held me until I fell asleep. You let me fuck your mouth but you didn’t get off until the next morning in the shower when I went down on you.”

“Do you know why I brought you here?” Brian asked, voice incredibly low.

“No,” Justin admitted. “You were incredibly pissed at me. I thought you’d beat the shit out of me when you found me in the hotel room.”

“Instead I found you a place to stay,” Brian reminded him. “And I got you a job so you could pay off the charges to my fucking credit card. And still you thought I viewed you as a trick. You know I’ve never been one to adopt anyone like Mikey. I’ve never been into strays. I probably would have given Hunter a few grand but I wouldn’t have taken him in. Because I’m heartless.”

“You’re not heartless.”

“And you shouldn’t defend me. I’m an asshole. The mold was set long ago, Justin. I hardened because I had to. This veneer is carefully constructed because I wasn’t allowed to be who I was. Who I am. You have been. Your mommy protected you.”

“And yours betrayed you.” Justin sat down next to him on the bed. “Brian, we’re not our parents. We make our own pain.”

“I really fucking hate it when you use my own words against me. I know we make our own pain. Neither of us has gone down the road expected of us. We’ve taken a different path than what we expected. But it seems that each turn has led us back to each other. Did you ever wonder what would’ve happened if I got that job in New York?”

“Which time?”

“The first time,” Brian said. “When Kennedy & Collins offered me the job.”

“Yeah, I wondered.”

“What would you have done if I’d left?” Brian asked.

“You didn’t.”

“Purely hypothetical. Let’s say I had gotten the job. What would you have done?”

“I’d have graduated. Probably ended up going to Dartmouth and been miserable in a pre-business program. And I’d have wondered what would have happened. I probably would have tried to find you after graduation.”

Brian looked at him. “Because you thought you loved me or because you were obsessed with me?”

Justin looked directly at him and said, “I’ve always loved you. Even when I was with Ethan, you were the one who I was thinking of. It’s always been you, Brian. I didn’t come back because I felt guilty or because you were a back-up. I came back because I don’t like who I am when I’m not with you.”

“It’s not healthy to be so dependent on someone,” he pointed out. “Some would say that we’re co-dependent.”

“Did you miss me while I was gone? Did you think about me when you were jerking off late at night? Did I ever cross your mind?”

Slowly Brian nodded and Justin smiled, albeit sadly. “We do the same thing to each other, Brian. We’re okay when we’re alone but we’re just stumbling through the motions. I think we’re better together than we are apart. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t need my own identity. And, at the end of the day, I don’t want a gold bar with diamond studs on each end shoved through my tit. I don’t want to belong to you, Brian. I’ve never wanted you to consider me your possession. I can’t sacrifice who I am just so you believe that I love you.”

“Do you think I’m that selfish, Sunshine?”

“No. And I don’t think you see me as only a pleasure device. I know you see me as a whole person but sometimes it’s easy to forget that. You and I both get in a zone in the backroom. When is the last time you let me push you up against that wall and fuck you? I’m always the submissive and that’s fine because it’s different at home.”

Brian stood and rested his forehead against Justin’s. “Baby, we hurt each other so bad. Why?” It dawned on him minutes later that he'd once again called him baby. He rarely did that because he didn't really see Justin as a baby.

“You know it was once written that love means never having to say you’re sorry. That’s such a chick thing to say because no self respecting man or queer would say that. Love is hard; love sucks; and love is messy. Like sex when it’s good. We’re men, Brian. I think it was you who once said that being gay doesn’t mean you subjugate your masculinity. Or something along those lines. I would like just once for the guys in the backroom to know that our relationship is somewhat balanced; that on occasion I get to fuck you, that its your seed splattering the wall at Babylon.”

“Why is that so important?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you are so blatantly a top. That everyone just assumes I’m your bottom bitch.”

“You’ve fucked me in the backroom before,” Brian reminded him. “And you’re not my bottom bitch.”

“Twice,” Justin reminded him. “Maybe three times and how many of those times were you so loaded that you didn’t even thinking about protesting. I don’t want to dominate you all the time, Brian. I love it when you fuck me, I love it when your dick is in my ass. Hell, I crave that fullness that only your cock gives me. You know how many times I would walk around the apartment with a butt plug up my ass? I miss that feeling. Hell, I get drunk on that feeling. But I just wish that sometimes it was me driving.”

“You drive at home. Think of the night we got back together when you fisted me.”

Justin’s mouth twisted into something that could loosely be described as a smile. “It wasn’t something that usually happens. And you aren’t really into frottage. Neither am I.”

“Or water sports,” he pointed out. “Drinking piss has never appealed to me. And I don’t understand why some queers are piss queens.”

“Ugh,” Justin said, grimacing. At his expression, Brian laughed. 

Looking at their surroundings, Brian said, realizing the change of subject was abrupt. “Justin, are you up for trying to get me hard? Do you want to try?”

“Are you ready? Are you sure?”

Hesitantly Brian nodded. “You realize we’ve always just done it. Never really talked about it before. Except when we were setting the ground rules for the floor show.”

Justin smiled. “Not here. I don’t want to make love to you here.”

“Make love?”

“Oh stop that,” Justin said, lightly punching him. Realizing what he’d done, he pulled back, looking chagrined and horrified.

Brian looked at the expression on Justin’s face and said, “It’s okay. I know you won’t ever beat the shit out of me or hit me again. And I know that you meant that to be playful. I do know the difference. But that’s part of the reason it’s so important for me to be in control, for me to be on top. You have had a limited experience with other tops. You’ve been lucky. Justin, if you’d come onto the scene in NYC or San Francisco, I don’t know what might have happened. Nobody can ever say you don’t have balls. But you’d get eaten alive out there.” He glanced at his blond and said, “That’s why it’s been important to me for the other guys to know that you’re mine, so to speak. Setting the ground rules for your own protection. I know some guys who have been taken so forcefully that their rectum has been torn open, that the internal lining of their hole has been shredded. I didn’t want that for you.”

“Oh,” he said.

“Yeah, oh,” Brian mockingly replied. Then he said, “Christ, what was I thinking?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty disgusting in here. Wonder how many johns have paid for it in this room?”

“Well that’s a pleasant thought.” Turning up his nose, he said, “Let’s go home.”

“Home?”

“The loft, twat. Don’t bust my balls.”

Justin stood and straddled Brian’s legs. “What are you doing?” he asked quietly.

“Killing you with kindness,” Justin said as he bent to take Brian’s mouth in a gentle kiss. When he pulled away, Brian nipped at his bottom lip. Smiling Justin said, “I won’t hurt you again, Brian.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Brian lightly replied.

“I won’t. Come on, get dressed. This place creeps me out. I don’t understand how anyone can get a hard-on in a surrounding like this.”

“You’d be surprised.” Brian remembered a night long ago when a much younger Brian had found himself in a surrounding much like this one. It was an experience he wouldn’t wish on anyone. Not even his worst enemy.

“Brian?” Justin said, questioning tone in his voice.

“I’m okay, Sunshine. Let’s go. By the way, when did you read Mr. Benson?”

Justin blushed slightly. “I found it in the erotica section of a used bookstore. It was the gay version of Looking for Mr. Goodbar or so I thought.”

“Did you jack off while reading it?” Brian queried, as he hurriedly dressed. “Or did you find it disturbing?”

“The parts about the tubs of piss were disturbing. It’s kind of a what not to do guidebook unless you really, really want to be a slave. Belong to someone else utterly. When did you read it?”

Brian zipped up his boots. And said, “I read it when I was a junior at Penn. It helped me realize that I wanted to be a top but not a brutal top like Mr. Benson and I sure as hell didn’t want to delve heavily into the S&M scene. Too fucking scary. And white slavery exists, Sunshine. It’s not just women who find themselves sold into bondage. There are men in the far corners of the world who live for little boys and young men who look like little boys. I’ve met some of those guys and it’s not something a situation you want to find yourself in. There are too many horror stories of guys who don’t come back.”

“Is that why you didn’t want me dressing up as a hustler again when we were trying to expose Riekart?”

Brian stood and retrieved his keys. Glancing at Justin, he said, “Yeah. I also didn’t like the idea of all those guys ogling you.”

“Little green monster,” Justin teased, relieved when Brian smirked.

“So sue me. I like knowing that you’re mine. That I come home to you.” His tone grew more serious, “I didn’t want to be responsible for something happening to you. Your mom would’ve fucking killed me. Besides the fact that I’d miss you.”

“You would, huh?” Justin asked, as he closed the door behind them.

“Twat,” Brian said, in a tone that could only be described as loving. At least for him. He looked at Justin and tossed him the keys to the ‘vette. “Pull it up outside the office.”

Justin grinned at him. “You trust me?”

“Yeah, I fucking trust you.” Brian said. 

As Brian turned in the room key, he thought about just how naïve Justin still was. And how hard the road they’d traveled was. But through it all they came out the other side. He couldn’t help wondering what would happen if one of them just gave up on the other. How the other would survive. He shuddered as he thought about that. But he put the thought out of his mind. I’ll think about that tomorrow, he thought, realizing he was channeling the spirit of Scarlett O’Hara. Wouldn’t Em be amused? He thought.

But as Justin pulled the ‘vette around, Brian thought once again of just how lucky he was. When he got in the car, he leaned back against the seat. “You drive.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Take us home.”


	19. Acknowledging Fears

When they returned home, Justin followed Brian into the bedroom, half-expecting the man to drop his clothes where he stood. He watched in silence as Brian turned to walk into the bathroom. Starting to follow, he paused when Brian said, “No.”

Fighting the instant feeling of hurt, Justin simply nodded. He undressed and lay down on the bed waiting for Brian to return. As he heard the water turn on, Justin knew what was happening. That even though Brian had let him see him naked, he still needed the privacy. That he still didn’t want to share more with his young lover. It occurred to Justin that what he was doing wasn’t fair, that even Brian had a right to his dignity. But when half an hour passed and Brian hadn’t emerged from the shower, griping about being pruned, Justin got up and walked into the bathroom. Nothing he’d imagined prepared him for the sight that greeted him. Brian had curled up in the corner of the shower, heedless of the water sluicing down on him, and had wrapped his arms about himself as he rocked.

Oh God, Justin thought. He opened the door and said softly, “Brian.” Stepping inside he knelt down and said his name again, louder this time. There was no response and Justin stood to turn off the water when he felt a hand on his leg. There were shadows in Brian’s eyes and he’d gone pale. 

“Justin,” Brian said tentatively.

“Yeah, Bri,” he said, kneeling down next to him. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around his lover and comfort him but knew it had to be Brian’s call.

Brian forced himself to focus on Justin’s face and not the memories that assailed him. Struggling to stand, Brian looked down at his lover and read the concern in Justin’s eyes. “I’m okay,” he muttered, knowing he wasn’t convincing anyone. Justin merely looked at him. And Brian began to shiver uncontrollably.

Reaching for a towel, Justin wrapped it around his lover. He guided Brian into the bedroom, waiting as Brian allowed himself to be positioned on the bed, looking up at him with a distant expression. Justin rummaged through the closet for another blanket and was shocked to hear Brian begin to speak. “Justin,” he began. The blond slowly turned to look at him.

“Yeah,” he said, knowing that sex was the furthest thing from Brian’s mind at the moment. Hell, he looked like a half-drowned kitten.

Brian looked at him, forcing himself to focus on the blond in the present and not memories of the past. “When you went out that night to see Hobbs, I was terrified for you. Daphne had paid me a visit at Kinnetik, expressing her own worries. And I knew that you only had that little fuck as backup. I sat here at the loft, trying to imagine the best case scenario even though my brain wanted to focus on the worst possible images. I kept seeing you lying on the cold concrete because of Hobbs. And now the only thing I could think was that it was happening again. Only this time you had a fucking gun.”

Justin met Brian’s eyes, reading the pain and worry in the hazel depths. “When you came home that night, you just crawled into bed with me and let me hold you. But we didn’t talk. And I lay awake until dawn, watching you sleep. Do you know what it’s like hearing the phone rang and fearing that you’re about to learn that your partner is in the hospital? Or even worse in the fucking County Morgue?”

Shaking his head, Justin began to tremble. This was why he didn’t do therapy. It wasn’t because it was too revealing, it was because of the aftermath. “I walked away, Brian. I put that gun in Hobbs’ mouth, letting him taste the fear I’d experienced at his hand. I felt my finger drawing back on the trigger but I couldn’t do it. And you know why?”

“No,” Brian said.

“Because for the same reasons you stopped with capping him, I knew that hurting Hobbs wouldn’t give me back our lost time. It wouldn’t bring back those days I spent in a coma or the nights you stalked the corridor at the hospital, watching me sleep. It wouldn’t bring back the full function in my right hand. It wouldn’t solve a motherfucking thing, Brian. And the face I focused on as I walked away as Cody yelled those invectives at me was yours.”

For once Brian couldn’t even muster up the arrogance to tease him about that. “So I’m the reason you walked away.”

“No,” Justin clarified. “I’m the reason I walked away. But you were the motivation. I kept thinking about you and how this whole thing hurt you as much as it did me. It was incredibly selfish of me to say that you weren’t the one who got bashed. In many ways, you did get bashed. Just not with a baseball bat. You got bashed with the realization that you cared about what happened to me, that I mattered to you.”

Slowly Brian forced himself to nod. No use denying that he cared about what happened to Justin. Or that their excursion to the armpit of hell tonight was ill-advised. “Come here,” he said, voice soft.

Justin hesitated and Brian said, “Don’t make me beg.” But I’ll beg if I fucking have to. If that’s what you need.

Settling down next to him, Justin smelled the scent of Brian’s shampoo and cologne. “I’m sorry,” Brian said softly. “I was an asshole tonight.”

“So was I. But you were right. If I can’t be there for you, we’re fucked.”

“Can you?”

Justin maneuvered himself so that he lay atop Brian without putting his full weight on the man. “Yeah, I can.”

“Justin, how do you feel about me?” I can’t believe I’m actually asking him this, Brian thought. When did I turn into a lesbian?

Recognizing the oddity of the question and the implicit need, Justin kissed him gently. And felt relieved when Brian began to respond in kind. Kissing his eyelids and nose and cheeks and lips, Justin began to work his way down. “Sunshine?”

Looking at him, he said, “Yeah, Bri.”

“Go slow. I may need to stop.”

Understanding that this was a watershed moment, he simply nodded. He kissed his way down Brian’s stomach, mouth followed by tongue. He reached Brian’s groin and looked at his partner. Brian’s eyes were heavy-lidded and he simply nodded. He was willing to give himself over to the sensations of having Justin make love to him. And that was what it was: Justin was making love to him. There was nothing frenzied about this experience, Brian realized as he felt Justin kiss his penis. This was not fucking, he acknowledged. Then he felt his mouth begin to gently lap at his balls, carefully drawing one inside, sucking on it. When his tongue traced the scar, Brian found himself grabbing the sheets for purchase. But Justin was incredibly gentle and Brian began to relax. Justin moved and said, voice muffled, “what do you want me to do?”

“Lick my shaft. See if you can get me hard enough.”

“You okay?”

Brian nodded even though Justin couldn’t see it. “Yeah, so far. Just go slow.”

Justin ran his tongue from base to tip and tip to base, tracing the vein that ran along the upperside of Brian’s shaft. He was rewarded with a tiny drop of pre-cum and closed his mouth over the head, hand moving up and down as he sucked gently and then harder. Felt Brian’s hands fist in his hair and knew he was doing something right. Getting into it, he sucked him into a nearly full hard-on before letting him slip free. He knelt on all fours and looked at Brian. 

Moving to his knees, Brian looked down at himself and then reached for the tube of lube and a condom. Lubing himself up and stroking to make himself harder, Brian rolled the condom over himself. Then lubed Justin’s asshole, positioning the head of his penis at the hole, he looked down at himself and realized to his chagrin and frustration, that he was deflating. Fuck, he thought. God, this can’t be happening to me. He pulled away from Justin, patting his ass and Justin collapsed face first onto the bed. Sitting at the end of the bed, Brian put his head in his hands. I will not cry, he thought. I will not fucking cry. He felt a hand on his shoulder and knew Justin was behind him.

“Don’t say anything,” Brian said, wishing for a cigarette. 

“I’m sure it’s just a temporary setback,” Justin responded. 

Fighting back a vicious response, Brian stood instead. He returned to his side of the bed, and lay down on his side, facing away from Justin. Justin stared at him and then realized the futility of trying to comfort him. It wasn’t going to solve anything. This problem wouldn’t be solved in one day. Or even a week, he thought. He could only imagine just how miserable Brian felt.

Cradling his own pillow, Justin faced away from Brian, feeling the gulf between them spread even wider. Brian slipped into sleep but there was nothing blissful about it. Justin lay there looking out into the darkened loft for a long time. Finally, he slid out of bed and walked silently down to the futon mattress that they’d thrown on the floor in lieu of a sofa. It also helped when they couldn’t make it to the bedroom in time. But now he wrapped himself in a comforter and tried to fall asleep.

Awakened by something, Brian rolled to find he was alone in bed. He sat up and looked about him. “Justin,” he said. There was no immediate response so he crawled to the end of the bed and looked down into the main area of the loft. He could see a bright head among the covers of the futon mattress. Oh, hell, he thought. Standing, he crept down the stairs and slid in behind Justin, drawing the comforter over them both. Not understanding why he suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of an empty bed, Brian wrapped his arms around the sleeping man and drew him closer, drawing comfort from Justin’s scent.

When they awoke hours later, Justin realized that he wasn’t alone. Turning slightly, he saw that Brian was sleeping beside him. Gently kissing his lips, he whispered, “Morning, Bri.”

Slowly the hazel eyes opened and he grumbled, “You made me sleep on the floor again. I thought we weren’t going to do that.”

Justin couldn’t help grinning. “You didn’t have to join me down here. You could have slept in your nice warm bed without me.”

“Wasn’t nice. Wasn’t warm.” Brian said, realizing that he’d adopted a petulant voice. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Reading the underlying subtext that lay buried in Brian’s words, Justin simply moved closer to him. “What’s on your agenda today?” he asked.

Brian rolled onto his back and said, “Meeting with my attorney about my will and the domestic partnership agreement. Call your mother to see if we can move up our lunch. Think I need to tell her everything. And take you to the Institute. Pick you up and come back here for dinner. Did I leave anything out?”

Justin hadn’t really heard anything Brian had said after the words domestic partnership agreement. “Um, Bri,” he said, relieved that his voice didn’t squeak like a pre-adolescent whose balls hadn’t dropped yet.

“Yeah, Sunshine.”

“Domestic partnership agreement?”

“Oh, that.” Brian said as nonchalantly as he could. “Yeah, I think we need to file one.”

Cupping Brian’s chin, Justin forced him to meet his eyes. “You think marriage is only for straight people. That it’s an antiquated notion that has no foundation among queers. That it’s bullshit. So why on earth would you want us to have a DPA?”

Realizing he wasn’t going to get out of this one so easily, Brian sighed. “It’s for our protection. I want you to be protected and us legal. That’s not saying that anything will change between us. I certainly don’t want the guys to know. This is just between us. You dig?”

“You said dig,” Justin said, chortling. But he understood fully the serious nature of what Brian was suggesting. “Yeah, I understand. You said something about your will.”

“I knew that would peak your interest,” Brian said. “The thought of my money.”

“Grr,” Justin growled. “I don’t want your fucking money, Brian.”

“Simmer down, Simba,” Brian said. “I know you’re not with me because of money. If that was it you’d have bailed when I had to sell everything to pay for those ads.” His tone turned more serious as he said, “I’m leaving you the loft. There are some stocks that you could liquidate if you needed to. Also, I want you to be a silent partner in Kinnetik.”

“Huh?”

Brian sat up, pulling Justin back against his chest. “Did I suddenly speak Farsi?”

“No,” Justin answered. “Be serious.”

“I’m trying to be serious. If the cancer comes back and I need to go into chemo, I want you on the board. It’s only fair considering you helped think of the concept.”

“It’s your baby, Brian. And I don’t know much about corporations.”

“It’s a legal business, Sunshine. I want you to be able to cut the checks and run the administrative side of things with Theodore’s help if you had to. If I was down for the count, I want someone I trust at the helm.”

“What about Cynthia? She’s been your assistant for eight years. She knows the business. I don’t.”

Brian suppressed a sigh. “Cynthia’s phenomenal. There’s a reason she’s the creative director along with being my personal assistant. But I want my partner to be co-partner in the business. You don’t have to get involved now if you don’t want. I know you never wanted to do business, that you felt it was Daddy’s world and not yours. But I need this.”

Justin tilted his head up. “You realize that you’re making us more public than you ever intended, right? That you’re saying that Brian Kinney is in a relationship?”

“What do you think the party launching Kinnetik was about, Sunshine? I introduced you to that group, knowing full well that I was letting them know that I had a partner. This is expanding that partnership. Like I said it’s a contingency plan. Contingent on me being knocked out by chemo. And, despite my comments to the contrary, I know we’re in a relationship. I wouldn’t have taken you to fucking couples counseling if I didn’t recognize that little fact.” What’s next, he wondered, Dr. Phil?

“And the will?"

“Basically says that what I have is yours with the exception of a few things that I have designated for Michael or Debbie.”

“Money?”

Brian narrowed his eyes and gave him a penetrating look. “When I was scrambling for funds after Stockwell, you offered me money. I refused it because of my pride. You said that I wouldn't even allow you to pay for a fucking drink because I always had to be on top. Well, grasshopper, I'm bending a little. You went behind my back and engineered a mini-fundraiser to save my ass. I’m paying for you to go to the Institute. But we haven’t said much about us. So I think we need to address that.” Suddenly standing Brian walked to his desk and pulled out a huge portfolio along with his checkbook.

He handed Justin the portfolio and said, “You need to read this.” Handing him the checkbook, he added, “I’ve added you on to my account so you can draw from this.”

“Brian, I----”

“You always wanted us to be a ‘we’, Justin. Now we are. I just don’t want it said on Liberty Avenue that I’m dick-whipped. But this is something you and I need. I trust you. I know you won’t go jetting off to NYC again. I know you won’t take advantage of this. But in an emergency situation it doesn’t make sense that you can’t make any financial decisions.”

Justin stared at him. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“No,” Brian admitted, the words seemingly torn from somewhere deep within. “But it’s fucking ridiculous to deny that you and I are together. We’re partners, Justin. The state should recognize that.”

“So what do you think about gay marriage? You’ve always been so against it.” He understood he was broaching a dangerous topic.

Brian sat down and took a deep breath. One of these days, he realized, I'm going to have to tell him what happened at the White Party. That I caught that fucking bouquet and didn't drop it immediately. Instead, Brian recalled, I stood there dancing with it. “I don’t see gay marriage for myself or for us. But that doesn’t mean that I think couples like Lindsay and Melanie or Michael and Ben shouldn’t have the option of getting married. Legally married, not some ceremony that isn’t legal. If Ben’s viral load drops again and he ends up in the hospital, Michael should have the right to make medical decisions. Just because they suck each other’s dicks doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t have the same respect accorded to them that breeders do. I think it sucks that you can’t inherit. But I can protect you. You just aren’t my next-of-kin. I’ll be damned if my estate goes to my cunt of a sister. This DPA is for our protection. You don’t have to use the accounts but the money is there if you need it.”

“Why?”

“Because, Sunshine, despite my best efforts, it’s patently obvious that you’re not going anywhere. That I’m stuck with you.” He said the last tongue-in-cheek.

Justin grinned but he couldn’t help thinking this was a hollow victory. And a victory at Brian’s expense was no victory at all.


	20. Acknowledging Fears

Author's Note: If anyone thinks of a better title for this story, I'm open to suggestions. It's hard thinking of titles this far into a story! Thanks.

* * *

Two days later Brian found himself seated across the table from Jennifer Taylor. Though it had originally been a lunch date, he’d found himself unable to complain when she’d called to ask if they could make it dinner instead. Instead, he’d called the blond they shared in common and asked him to meet him at the loft at 9:00 instead of after his shift at the diner.

Since the aborted attempt at having sex, neither of them had discussed it. And Brian had found to his considerable surprise, they were comfortable with each other without the intimacy of sex. They were intimate together even when they curled up together to watch a movie or the news. Finding contentment in just kissing each other. Who knew, he reflected, that I could be happy to just taste Justin without having sex with him?

But he redirected his attention when Jennifer rejoined him at the table. She’d gone to the ladies’ room to powder her nose leaving him to peruse the menu and sit silently with his own thoughts. “Brian,” Jennifer began, glancing at the man who was the closest thing to a son-in-law she’d have for a while.

“Hmm?” he responded, looking at her from over the menu.

“What do you recommend?”

“The coq au vin is wonderful. The chicken marsala is always a good choice. Depends on what you’re in the mood for. They have a wonderful chardonnay here that accents the chicken.”

In surprise, she found herself studying him with renewed interest. “How do you know all that?”

He raised an eyebrow and said, “You really want to know?”

“Uh huh,” she said, voice suddenly reluctant. She reached for her water glass as Brian began to respond.

“Well, I made a meal of the chef,” Brian said, a wicked glint in her eyes. “Found a new use for the sauce they use on the marsala. Great on skin. Interesting lubricant for certain orifices,” he said.

“Brian,” she said, blushing despite herself.

“You asked,” he reminded her and she nodded.

The wine steward tentatively approached their table and gave Brian an appraising look. Brian glanced at him, reading the not-so-subtle signals, and shook his head slightly. “I’ll have a Glenlivet neat. Jen?”

“A glass of chardonnay, please.”

“Yes, sir. Ma’am,” the wine steward said, disappearing with their order.

She glanced at him and said, “I think he was interested.”

Surprised that she’d noticed, Brian said, shortly, “I wasn’t. Besides, it’s rude to leave your guest at the table while you go fuck some guy.”

Startled, Jennifer looked at him. “I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that I know you and Justin have an open relationship. That you’re free to see other men.”

“You sure are nonchalant,” Brian pointed out, a little surprised by her attitude. “I thought you’d rake me over the hot coals for that. That you think it’s appalling that we aren’t monogamous. That even though we’re partners we still fuck others.” He spoke quietly.

It did bother her on some levels that Brian wasn’t only fucking her son, that he still cruised, but Jennifer knew better than to pass judgment. After all, it was Justin who, not so long ago, had broken the rules he’d devised at Brian’s expense. Leaving the man in front of her, she thought, shattered. So she said only, “Did he ever tell you about the time in high school when I took him to an art gallery after he’d left home to be with you?”

Ouch, Brian thought. Shaking his head, he indicated she should continue. “I was intrigued by a painting of a mother suckling her infant son and Justin said he needed to go to the men’s room. When I looked around I saw my son and this other young man disappearing into the bathroom. Well, I’m sure you know the rest.”

Brian nodded. He’d never heard this story. “So what happened?”

“I assume Justin had sex with him.”

“Well, yeah,” Brian said. “Did you say anything to him?”

She shook her head, feeling her face color. “No, I didn’t know what to say. Anything I thought of sounded too judgmental. Like I was passing judgment.”

“You and Craig had a fairly stable marriage, didn’t you? I mean you were used to monogamy and that’s part of the reason our relationship bothers you, right?”

Before Jennifer could answer, the wine steward returning with Brian’s drink and her glass of wine. Waiting until he’d departed again, she met Brian’s gaze directly. “No.”

Unable to hide his shock, Brian took a sip of scotch. “Want to tell me about it?”

“You really care?” she shot at him, surprised herself at the venom in her voice.

Brian looked at her. “Yeah, I really care. I wouldn’t have asked to observe some social nicety, Jen.”

Taking a sip from her own glass of wine, she reappraised Brian. “Craig first started cheating on me when I was pregnant with Justin. I was twenty-one and he was twenty-five. We’d discussed me being a stay-at-home mom and so I played the dutiful Donna Reed role. I had dinner ready for him and leftovers in the oven when he had to work late. One night I decided to surprise him with dinner at the office.”

Brian nodded, and she hesitated slightly before continuing. “The security officer let me go up. I found Craig’s office and the lights were all off. Then I heard low murmurs coming from the conference room. I walked into the room and saw my husband banging the hell out of some twenty-year-old intern. His pants were down around his ankles and she saw me and screamed at him to stop. Told him that his wife was standing in the door.”

Brian felt a surge of anger that she’d been so cuckolded. “Why’d you stay?” he asked, figuring he knew the answer. It was the same answer so many women gave.

“I had no training past a useless degree in Interior Design. Brian, I wasn’t prepared to live on my own. And I was expecting a baby. He promised it would never happen again and like a fool I believed him. And I loved him, pretty fucking desperately.”

“After Molly was born, why didn’t you just take the kids and leave? Why did you stay?” he asked.

Jennifer glanced at him. “Where would I have gone, Brian? To my alcoholic mother’s house? Great surrounding for a kid to grow up in.”

Brian hesitated then met her eyes directly. “Did Debbie tell you how I grew up? I know you hired the private dick to investigate me but did she ever tell you anything?”

“Not specifics. Just that it was hell for you. That your mother is an alcoholic who stood by and watched when your father used you as a punching bag. She respected your privacy too much to give me specific examples.”

Brian smiled sardonically. Before he had a chance to respond, the waiter approached. “Are you ready to order, sir?”

“I’ll have the coq au vin. Jen?”

“The chicken marsala.”

“Salads?”

“Caesar.”

“I’ll have the same,” Jennifer concurred. 

The waiter disappeared with their order and Brian asked, “Do you want me to tell you?”

Understanding that this was a rare occurrence, she shook her head slightly. “Not if you don’t want to. I know you don’t like me very much.”

To her surprise Brian laughed. “You know I would have said the exact same thing. About you,” he said. “I respect you, Jen. You’ve given me chance after chance. Hell, you stood in that bathhouse that smelled of stale come and urine and other fluids and didn’t bat an eyelash as you took me around. I like you. You and Debbie are the closest things to a mother that I have.”

“I’m only twelve years older than you,” she pointed out. But she understood that such a statement was a high compliment, coming as it did from Brian.

“And I’m in love with your son,” he pointed out. Then it occurred to him what he’d revealed. Flushing slightly, he reached for his glass of scotch and took a deep swallow. Oh, fuck, he thought. I can’t believe I just said that. FUCK!!! FUCK!!!

Jennifer had reached for her glass of chardonnay but then put it down suddenly, pleased that none splashed onto the linen tablecloth. “Mind repeating that?” she said, voice suddenly shaky.

“Repeating what?” Brian asked, knowing that he wasn’t going to get out of this one.

“Repeating your last comment. What you said about my son,” she reminded him.

Taking a deep breath, Brian said, “I’m in love with your son.” Well, he thought, I’m still standing. I’m not a human fireball. The world still spins on its axis when Brian Kinney admits he loves someone. I’m not the eighth wonder of the world.

“That’s what I thought you said,” Jennifer said, reaching for the glass again. 

“Yeah, it just sort of came out,” Brian said, embarrassed. “We don’t have to tell him, do we?”

She almost laughed at the expression on his face. He looked a bit like his son at that moment, afraid he was going to be called on the carpet for some infraction. “No, Brian, we don’t have to tell him. But I have to admit that I’m relieved.”

“Relieved?” he echoed.

She nodded. “I thought this was just a fuck thing. That you found my son convenient.”

What is it with Taylors and being convenient? Brian wondered. Fighting back a retort of his own, he simply smirked. Discretion is the better part of valor, he reminded himself. “Your son has never been convenient. And it’s not just a fuck thing.”

Before Jennifer could answer, a familiar male voice said, “Jennifer?”

Two faces looked to see the intruder. Both wore similar expressions of shock and distaste and apprehension. Fuck, Brian thought. He would have been amused to know that Jennifer was thinking the same thing. She reached for her wine glass and took a deep swallow before saying in an arctic tone, “Craig.”

To his credit, Brian’s face did not betray his instant urge to light into the man. Instead, he sat there calmly sipping his scotch, reminding himself that he did not need to defend his partner’s honor or his mother-in-law. Realizing how he’d just referred to Jennifer even in the comfort of his own thoughts, Brian nearly groaned aloud. But then he heard Craig say, voice a low hiss, “What the fuck are you doing with that child molester? How dare you bring him here?”

“It’s a public place, Craig. And you don’t dictate who I can have dinner with. Besides, isn’t that Melissa sitting at the table? Seems she has a glass of wine in front of her and I know for a fact that she isn’t much more than eighteen. Who’s robbing the cradle now?”

Face flushed with anger, Craig turned to look at Brian. “So it wasn’t enough that you corrupted my son? You had to corrupt my wife too. How can you even sit there and meet my eyes?”

Realizing laughter was not an appropriate response, Brian said, “Ex-wife. Like she said, you no longer make her decisions. And it seems Lolita over there is itching for you to come back to her. Must see something she likes. For the life of me, I can’t understand why old men like you continually get such young women to suck your cock.”

Jennifer began to say something and then realized that this was a conversation long in the making. That even though Brian’s words were vitriolic, his tone was low and conversational. He wasn’t trying to make a scene, she determined, or become combative. It would be interesting, she mused, to see if her ex-husband could maintain the same control over his emotions as Brian had over his.

“At least I don’t molest children,” Craig spat at him. 

It was Jennifer who laughed at that, causing both ex-husband and near son-in-law to look at her. “She was seventeen when you met her, Craig. The same age Justin was when he met Brian. I advise you to have some courtesy when you address my son-in-law.”

He went crimson with rage. “That’s different,” Craig insisted. “Your son-in-law?! Your fucking son-in-law? What the hell are you playing at, Jennifer?” 

“Why because it’s pussy and not dick?” Jennifer pointed out. “We were enjoying a pleasant meal. Yes, Brian is the closest thing I have to a son-in-law. At least until Molly gets married. Why don’t you leave before you embarrass darling little Melissa and yourself? I think it's time for her to take a nap.”

Brian looked at her with respect. She'd just cut his balls off in a very WASP-like manner.

“I think I’ll talk to the owner,” Craig said, turning to leave.

Brian spoke quietly and forcefully to his back. “Craig, I fucked the owner. And the maitre d. And most of the kitchen staff. Your son was with me when I sucked the owner off. Somehow I think you have less credibility here than Kenneth Lay. So why don’t you and your ‘date’ get the fuck out of here.”

“Why you little cocksucker!” Craig nearly shouted as he turned to face Brian. “I should kick your fucking ass.”

Aghast, Jennifer could only watch and hope it didn’t turn into a full-fledged brawl. But Brian said only, “You’re right, Craig. I do suck cock and I do take it up the ass. And your son will still be a faggot. Just like me. Only Justin knew he liked dick long before I ever met him. He sat up in his room, fantasizing about it. About how it feels to ride a dick, have that fullness in your ass. And you have kicked my ass before but it wasn’t on equal terms. You always came at me in a chicken shit manner. You totaled my jeep. You bruised my ribs but it never got you anything. In fact, it cost you your son. My gain because I have Justin.”

Craig lifted his arm back and Brian stood up. “Let’s finish this thing. Like men. Because I can guarantee that you won’t be walking away from this. And it won’t be me facing charges. Keep in mind that I’m the one who kept your pretty little ass out of county lockup when you hit my jeep. I didn’t do that for you.” He spared a look at Jennifer who looked stunned. “I did that for your son. I did that for your wife who you’ve screwed in more ways than one. So please, Mr. Taylor, please hit me. Bust my lip with that fraternity ring you’re so fucking proud of. I’ll still be the man sleeping with your son. It won’t change a thing. I suggest you get the hell out of here before I send you out in an ambulance.”

Stunned, Craig dropped his hand to his side, avoiding looking at either his ex-wife or the man who was with his son. Silently he walked away, knowing that the little altercation though quiet had drawn attention. The waiter tentatively approached and asked, “Monsieur Kinney, is everything OK?”

“Yes, Pierre. If that man comes back over here, I want you to call the cops.”

As the waiter unobtrusively disappeared again, Brian took a seat, reaching for the linen napkin and wiping his mouth. He slowly looked at Jennifer who was torn between pride and horror.

“If he comes back,” Brian said quietly, “I’ll press charges. I’ll swear out a restraining order.”

Jennifer could only nod. “You defended me,” she said, still stunned. “I didn’t know that when he wrecked our car it was from hitting your jeep.”

“Justin didn’t tell you?”

She shook her head. “No, he didn’t tell me. Hell, if I’d known that, I might have been tempted to encourage you to press charges.” Looking at Brian, she said, in a wondering tone of voice, “You’d die to protect my son, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t let anything happen to him, would you?”

Slowly Brian shook his head, his eyes meeting her own. “I have something I need to tell you, Mother Taylor.”

She grinned. She could see that Craig and his ‘date’ were leaving. “You got them to leave, Brian.”

“I’m only sorry I had to embarrass you to do it. I didn’t mean to drag you into it. But he pissed me off. And I’m not a child molester.”

“I know that. I know that your relationship with Justin was legal from the start. And I know that when your nephew accused you of molestation, it was Justin who pulled your nuts from the fire.”

“Nicely put, Jen,” Brian said. “I couldn’t have said it much better myself. You know I missed that fucking kid when he was with the fiddler.”

“You know the problem with Ethan, Brian?”

He shook his head. “He wasn’t you. And you are an original. I understand why Justin fought for you.”

Brian had the grace to look embarrassed himself. “I’m not worth it.”

“The hell you aren’t,” she burst out. “You just went toe-to-toe with one of the most influential scions of banking families without batting an eye. You told him that you were the one sleeping with his son and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Brian, you have balls. You’re worth every ounce of effort Justin put into a relationship. You’ve earned the right to consider yourself worthy of his love and mine.”

“Yours?”

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Mine. I’m proud to have you as the nearest thing to a son-in-law. I’m proud that my daughter’s brother has such a wonderful partner. Somehow I came to love you, Brian. Don’t know quite how the hell that happened but it did. And I like it when you call me Mother Taylor. I’m proud to have you as a part of my family.”

“You may take that back in a minute,” Brian said, unsettled by the praise heaped upon him.

Staring at him, Jennifer sensed a darkness slipping into his eyes. “What’s wrong, Brian?”

He took a sip of scotch and met her eyes again, proud of himself for not looking away. “I found out a month and a half ago that I’m sick.” Saw the wariness slip into her eyes. “It’s not AIDS, Jen. Justin and I are always careful. I was in the backroom at Babylon with a trick and the guy turned out to be a doctor. He told me I had a lump in my scrotum that I should get checked out. That I shouldn’t wait too long.”

“What happened?” Jennifer said, pleased her voice didn’t betray her emotional turmoil.

“I went to the doctor. He told me that I had Stage 1 cancer but that with surgery and radiation, I should be okay. That there was a 99% chance of full recovery. I went to the top specialist and got a prosthetic testicle. Then I went under the knife at Johns Hopkins. I’m fine but I’m going through radiation.”

“And your sex life?” She couldn’t believe she was actually asking such a personal question. “Sorry if it’s intrusive.”

“I think you’ve earned that right. You’ve seen me naked enough,” he said, trying to make light of it. Then he saw the look in her eyes and turned serious again. “I’m currently impotent. And when I’m able to sustain an erection I won’t be sharing it with a stranger. I want to be with Justin when I’m fully functioning again.”

“That matters to you?”

Draining the glass of scotch, he nodded. “Yeah, it matters. I want to be able to make love to your son again.”

“Here I thought you’d say fuck.”

Brian winced. “Okay so I have a tendency to be vulgar and explicit on occasion. But it isn’t always such a base thing between us. I want it to be slow and gentle. Christ, I’m turning into a fucking dyke here.”

“No,” Jennifer said, smiling at his discomfort. “You are accepting what it means to be in a relationship. That there are more important things than sex. That intimacy means more than just being inside someone physically. You and Justin have an emotional bond. When it’s broken, you both are miserable. I’m glad you told me. I’m glad you trusted me with this, Brian.”

“Yeah, well, I needed a Mom.”

“Have you told Debbie?”

Brian shook his head. “It’s not her son who I’m in love with, Jen. I felt I owed it to you to tell you first. Don’t know quite how to tell Deb. I mean she just lost Vic.”

“She loves you, Brian. Even when she calls you a fuck-up and an asshole, she still loves you. She’ll be there when you need her.” She studied the man sitting at the table with her and added, “If you need anything from me, let me know.”

“I asked Justin to become a silent partner in Kinnetik. I had a domestic partnership agreement drawn up.”

And the hits just keep on coming, she thought. “I thought you didn’t believe in gay marriage.”

“I don’t. But whatever I have with Justin is real. I still can’t tell him I love him though apparently I can tell you and Debbie. I want something on record but I don’t want it broadcast on Liberty Avenue that Brian Kinney’s gone soft.”

“Reputation?” she gently needled him.

Looking chagrined, he said, “Like it or not, I’ve got a reputation. Men know me. Men want to be me. And men want to be Justin because he’s with me. I want something between us that is just ours. Can you understand that?”

She nodded. She began to answer and was pre-empted by the arrival of their food. “Sir, has the party you were referring to been handled?”

Brian nodded at the diplomacy of the question. “Yes, I believe he left.”

“Ma’am, was he disturbing you?”

Jennifer nodded. “Yes, but Brian handled it. Like a true knight.”

Despite himself Brian felt himself begin to preen, like a bird of prey. Then realizing what he was doing, he studied his glass. “Would you like another glass of scotch, sir?”

“Um no. I’ll have a bottle of Perrier.”

Waiting until he’d left, Jennifer said, “I’m proud of you. I hope you know that.”

“I’m not comfortable with all this praise.”

“Don’t be so modest.”

“Me, modest? How can you ask that when you’ve seen my package?”

Jennifer had the grace to blush. “I didn’t look.”

Brian laughed. “The hell you didn’t. It’s okay. I have been with women before.”

“Really?”

“I did my share of experimenting with women, Jen. But I knew deep down that what I wanted was dick. That I was attracted to men. But I never thought I’d fall in love. Love to me was a battlefield. I know that’s a song and a clicheé but it’s true. Until I met Justin, I didn’t think I was worthy of anyone’s love. My dad beat the shit out of me and my mother just watched him. He’d casually backhand her and then that night I’d hear the moans coming from the room as they coupled. I didn’t want that for myself.”

Jennifer took a bite of her chicken marsala and asked, “You know that Justin’s father hit him, didn’t you?”

Brian set his fork very carefully down on the table. “When?” The quiet violence inlaid in the frigidity of his tone became clear quite quickly to her.

“When he found out that he was seeing an older man.”

“You mean when he found out about me, Craig hit Justin?”

She nodded. “You didn’t know,” she said quietly.

“No, he didn’t tell me.”

“He hit him once and Justin said that he could hit him all he wanted and he’d still be his faggot son. Then he walked away. I assume he wound up at the loft that night.”

“Christ,” Brian said, lifting up his fork again. But he’d lost his appetite. “I didn’t know, Jennifer.”

Staring at him, she asked another question. “Would you have done things differently if you had known?”

Brian took a bite, carefully chewed, and then deliberately swallowed before answering. It could have been cardboard he was eating for all the enjoyment he was getting out of his meal. “If I’d known Craig hit him when I sat in your living room that day, I would never have asked Justin if he wanted to go with me. I would have told him that he was coming with me. It wouldn’t have been a choice.”

“That makes that much of a difference?”

Brian looked at her incredulously. “Jenn, he almost died because of some homophobic asshole with a bat. Does it really matter that the man who hit him was the one whose seed enabled his conception? He still fucking hit him. And that pisses me off. Yeah, if I’d known things would have been different. I would have pressed charges. Because once someone opens that outlet to violence it’s pretty hard to re-seal it. Batterers don’t tend to stop. Serial killers don’t stop. And child abusers don’t stop. It’s a cycle of violence and I wouldn’t have left anyone in that situation.” Especially not someone I love, he thought.

Jennifer took another bite before responding. “You loved him. Even that early in your relationship, you loved him.”

Debating whether or not to refute the allegation, Brian settled on a truth. “I cared about him. When he told me he was considering going away to Dartmouth because that’s what Craig wanted, I felt something rip in my heart. But when I showed up at prom, my feelings were there for all to see. It was the most naked I’ve ever been. I was telling the whole world that I loved your son. Love your son. And it kills me that he doesn’t remember it. You know we went to a couples counselor a few days ago?”

“Justin didn’t mention it. He voluntarily went to a shrink?”

Brian’s lips curled in something that could loosely be described as a smile. “No, not really. But he went because he knew it was important to me. I nearly told your son in that session that I love him. But for some reason there’s a psychological roadblock that prevents me from telling him how I really feel. When we took a break a few weeks ago, it wasn’t because I was cheating on him. It was because he found out I had cancer and I didn’t want him to see me vulnerable. I didn’t want him to see me sick, that I wasn’t whole anymore. Not perfect anymore.”

Jennifer’s heart broke for him; for them. “When you love someone, you let them see the bad stuff as well as the good.”

“I know that,” Brian said. “Intellectually I know that. But emotionally I’m still a scared teenager. Love is scary to me. Even knowing that, Justin loves me because of my faults and flaws.”

“Justin’s good like that. He loves you pretty fucking desperately, Brian.”

Brian gave a wry chuckle. “I know. He’s come back to me. And God knows I haven’t made it easy on him. It’s not easy loving me or being in a relationship with me. I know I’m an emotional cripple but he still fights for me. He stood up to my mother after we reconciled. He stood up to my sister a few days ago. And somehow he saw something in me that he thought was worth salvaging. I owe your son a lot. Including my life.”

He began to eat again and Jennifer picked up her own fork. Studying him she could see that Brian had aged in some subtle ways. But she knew better than to say that aloud. “You’re a good man.”

“I’m not Charlie Brown.”

Jennifer laughed. “No, you’re not. You are who you are. You shouldn’t have to apologize for that. I stopped resenting you a long time ago.”

“You resented me?”

“For a while. Because you had my son. I didn’t think I could share Justin with another person.” She paused, then continued, “But you gave him back to me. You gave me back my son. And I would rather share him with you than not have him at all.”

“You give me far too much credit.”

“And the self-effacing shit doesn’t work for you, Brian. It’s not who you are.”

“I’m impressed,” he said. 

“And I’m on to you.”


	21. Acknowledging Fears

Author's Note: Thank you to the What Love Means site for the direct quotes from the episode 410, particularly Leah/Reboot.

* * *

That night when Brian came into the loft, Justin was lying on the futon mattress, sketching madly. Seems he got his muse back, Brian thought, relieved that he had found inspiration. “Hey, Sunshine,” Brian said.

The blond looked up and then lit up. He’s excited to see me, Brian realized. He belatedly thought he’d missed seeing that expression on his lover’s face. “Hey, Brian. How was dinner with Mom? Anything earth-shattering happen?”

“Fine. Craig happened.”

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

Brian slowly shook his head and said, “Wanna join me in the shower while I tell you all about it? It’s been a long day.”

Once in the shower, Justin found himself wrapped in Brian’s arms. It was an embrace so tight that he could barely breathe but knew better than to complain. Still he looked up at the older man and said, “You OK?”

“Not really,” Brian admitted. “Your mom referred to me as her son-in-law. You know anything about that?”

Squirming in Brian’s arms, Justin couldn’t quite meet Brian’s eyes. “I think she wishes we were going down the same path as Michael and Ben. That we might someday walk down the aisle. I think it’s dawned on her that Molly’s the only one that’ll give her grandchildren. Or be a mother-in-law.”

Okay, this is a slippery slope, Brian thought, as his arms tightened once against on the slippery blond. “She does have a grandchild,” Brian reminded him. “And we won’t be standing in front of an altar, Sunshine. But that doesn’t mean that she can’t still hope- after all, that's what mothers do.” Except mine whose concept of hope includes trying to change me into something I'm not and never will be.

It took Justin a minute to realize what Brian meant when he said that his mother already had a grandchild. Then he tipped his head back and removed the soap from Brian’s hand. “Are you talking about Gus?”

“Well, you’re as much his dad as I am.”

Holy fucking shit, Justin thought. Did he just say that or am I living an episode of The Twilight Zone? “But----”

Brian gave him a hard look and snatched the soap back, running a loving hand down Justin’s crack, probing between his slippery cheeks. “But what, Sunshine?” he asked, finger probing Justin’s hole. He felt it slip deeper and deeper and then curled the tip up towards the top of Justin’s hole. 

“He’s your son,” Justin said, exhaling sharply as Brian began to move his finger from side to side then top to bottom. He couldn’t help wishing it was his tongue instead.

“And you’re the one who named him. You’re as much as his father as I am.”

“I think the munchers would disagree,” he pointed out, then gasped as Brian withdrew the probing digit.

“You’re my fucking partner, Justin. And how long do you think it’ll be before Gus starts calling you Daddy Jus’n? You know it’s only a matter of time.”

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it; he’d just never thought Brian had thought about it. Brian turned him to face him and kissed him, tongue ruthlessly plundering the depths of Justin’s mouth. When they separated, Justin looked down and realized that Brian wasn’t hard. And, he realized with a surge of guilt, that he wanted to feel Brian’s dick going up his ass. He wanted to squat over that beautiful cock and then lower his ass down onto it.

“You miss fucking me, don’t you?” Brian asked.

Not sure quite how to answer that, Justin settled on a nod. “But I’m not going to the baths or the backroom.”

“Not even with my blessing? Not even if I promised that when I can get hard again I’ll let you top me at least once a week.”

“That’s bribery,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, well both of us are pretty fucking desperate. Only one of us should have to suffer the indignity of blue balls. No sense in being a martyr, Justin. At the end of the night, I’m the one you’ll be coming home to. I’m the one whose bed you sleep in.” Reminded of the words he'd once spoken on the dance floor so long ago when he'd leapt off the cliff, assuming Justin would be there to catch him. He couldn't help wondering if he'd be there for him now.

Justin stared at him. “Brian, are you all right?”

Turning off the water, Brian waited to hand him a towel before answering. “Why didn’t you tell me your dad hit you when he found out you were gay?”

How the hell did that even come up? “Because I knew how you’d react.”

“How would I have reacted Sunshine?”

Sighing, Justin flopped on the bed. “You’d have gone after him. You’d have beaten the shit out of him.”

“The only reason I didn’t press charges when he attacked me outside of Woody’s was because he was your dad, Justin. I’m lucky my ribs were only bruised and not broken. But if I’d known that he’d laid a hand on you, there was nothing you or Debbie could have said to stop me.”

“I know,” Justin said. “But I didn’t want you riding to my rescue like I’m some heroine out of some ridiculous fairy tale. Even then, I didn’t want you to solve all my problems.”

“What about the Gay and Lesbian Student Alliance?” Brian asked, lying down beside him on the bed.

“You fucked the shit out of me and suggested I hand out condoms. But when my locker was set on fire I didn’t come running to you.”

Brian remembered how angry he’d been when he’d first heard about that. From Michael, of all people, the least likely candidate to share news about Justin’s life. “Maybe you should have.”

Justin’s eyes narrowed as he stared at his partner. “Do you think that if you’d stepped in Hobbs wouldn’t have bashed me?”

“I didn’t say that,” Brian said, knowing that Justin had the eerie ability of reading his thoughts at times.

“But you still think that. Christ, Brian, he might have gone after you. He might have gotten both of us. Two more tragic victims of gay bashing making the headline of a newspaper. Yet another thing for the interest groups to lobby about in an attempt to get equal recognition for gays. Fuck that. You couldn’t have prevented anything.” And it's not healthy for you to let that eat you up inside, he thought, realizing it was yet another form of sickness.

“Okay, Simba. I know that it was probably inevitable. That nothing I did or didn’t do would have altered what happened that night. But, fuck, I wish you could remember it.”

“Why?” Justin asked. “Why is it so important to you that I remember?”

Because it would make everything right if you did, Brian thought. You’d know I love you and I wouldn’t have to say it. It wouldn’t be something you crave like a virgin craves sexual intimacy. “It just is. Daphne understands that.”

“Daphne was there that night. Daphne saw how we were together. It kills me knowing that it hurts you that I don’t remember.”

“What about hypnosis?”

Justin raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s not covered by my insurance. Besides, isn’t that kind of hokey? What if I discover a past life?”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“Brian.”

“I’ll pay for it.” Brian's words gave no room for a rebuttal.

“You already are,” Justin pointed out. “You already are the one paying for the memory of that night.”

“I want you to have that night back, Sunshine. I want you to remember that night. Please.”

It was rare when Brian Kinney said the word please, much less in a tone that could only be described as pleading. “Okay, Bri. I’ll go but I want you to go with me.”

“Done.” He knew his easy capitulation was not likely to soothe his partner but it was easier than fighting about it.

Justin rolled over to gently lie on top of Brian. “Brian, what happened with my dad?”

Sighing, he looked at the younger man. “You really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

“He lit into Jen about being with a child molester. Then he accused me of not only corrupting you but corrupting her.”

Justin couldn’t help but snort. But Brian wasn’t amused. “He said some shit about how he wanted to kick my ass. So I reminded him that every time he’s come after me it’s been in a chicken shit manner. That he totaled my jeep.”

“Um, Mom didn’t know about that.”

“Yeah, I found that out. Nice of you not to tell her, Sunshine. Remember making me that horrific hangover cure that your alcoholic grandmother used.”

Justin’s expression said “sorry” more eloquently than any words could. “So what else happened?”

Brian laughed. “Your dad threatened to talk to the owner. I think he figured he could throw his weight around.”

“This is the restaurant where you and I brought the waiter back here, right?”

Brian nodded. “I told him that I knew the owner and he had less credibility there than Kenneth Lay.”

“Nice,” Justin said, approving.

“He really is the Prince of Darkness, you know.” Brian glanced at his lover. “You know he’s seeing someone right?”

Justin nodded. “Mom mentioned it. So is she old?”

“Um, no. She’s younger than you. I think your mom said her name was Melissa Lancaster.”

Justin’s mouth dropped open. “My father is fucking Melissa Lancaster! Christ, that must be a wonderful sight to see at the country club.”

“Yeah, your mom seemed pretty pissed about it. She told him that he was the one robbing the cradle now. That he needed to take Melissa home for a nap.”

He grinned. “Mom said that?”

“Yeah, she really held her own with Craig. Your mom is an incredible woman, Sunshine.”

Staring at him for a second, Justin said, “She’s grown on you, huh?”

Disturbed to realize that was true, Brian was forced to nod. “Well, we’ve come a long way from the day when she stormed into my office and gave me a bag of your shit and a check. I think she actually may like me.”

“Humph. Well, haven’t I always said that you’re lovable?”

Brian glared at him. “Don’t start that shit.”

“So how did she react when you told her about the cancer?”

Still rocked by the calm reaction of Jennifer, Brian spoke slowly. “She was actually cool about it. Asked me about my chances. She didn’t get overly emotional or light into me. She asked if there was anything she could do. Reminded me that I need to tell Debbie.” Pausing a moment, he took a deep breath, “I told her about the will and Kinnetik. I told her about the DPA.”

Justin’s mouth gaped and he saw Brian smile slightly, a slight curving of the lips that wasn’t quite a smile but wasn’t a snarl either. “Um, I thought you wanted to keep that between the two of us.”

Answering wryly and remembering his admission of how he really felt about Justin, Brian said, “Your mom has a right to know. She asked me if you were simply convenient.”

“What is it with Taylors’ and assuming you think I’m simply convenient?” Justin shot back.

“Pretty much my reaction, Sunshine. But I didn’t say as much. She knows that we’re in for the long haul now.”

Allowing that to sink in, Justin reached into his backpack and withdrew a stapled group of papers. “While you were gone I worked on something.” He handed it to Brian waiting as the recognition crystallized in the hazel eyes. “I printed it out while you were at dinner with Mom.”

Looking at the document he held, Brian took a deep breath. Christ, he thought, this had to be fucking traumatic for you. But you did it because you thought I needed you to do this. “Justin, this is your will. You didn’t have to do this.”

Sighing, he met Brian’s eyes, seeing the faint hint of green in the hazel depths. “I know I didn’t have to but I needed to. Put it in the safety deposit box with your copy and the DPA.”

“You sure?” You’re still only twenty-one and barely that, Brian reminded himself. Even though at times he forgot that there was a decade gap between the two of them.

Justin nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure. I made a copy for your files here.”

“Our files,” Brian lightly corrected. “You know there’s a reason I cleared out that file cabinet for you. And I had a key made for you.”

All this, Justin couldn’t help thinking bitterly, and we still haven’t had the moving in discussion. Or a discussion of where the hell we’re going in this thing. He was slightly tired of not knowing where he and Brian stood even though they had a partnership that would be filed with the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. But dismissing the thoughts that flittered to the forefront of his mind every time he and Brian seemingly took a step forward, he blanked his expression.

“You okay?” Brian asked, seeing Justin’s expression change from open to devoid. It was startling to see that change, he thought.

“Fine,” Justin said, knowing that his lover didn’t believe that for an instant. 

“You eat?” 

“Um no. But I think there’s leftover Thai. I’ll just heat that up.”

Staring at his partner and not understanding entirely what the sudden mood change was all about, Brian simply said, “We can go to the diner. Get a greasy burger, fries, and a chocolate shake.”

“I’m not Gus,” Justin burst out, unclear of why he was suddenly so on edge. After all, this was what he had wanted. Right? Right?

“Whoa. What the fuck is wrong?” Brian asked, confused as to the volatility of Justin’s response to a seemingly innocent question.

Pausing a moment, Justin looked down at his hands. Then he handed Brian the sketch pad and said, “You ever feel like the person you think you are is not the person you are at all? That you’re just an artifice?”

Maybe going to Miranda was a good idea, Brian thought. Clearly they both needed to talk to someone. He wasn’t sure how to answer the question. But then he said, “Yeah. When I turned thirty I felt that way.”

Studying him for a second, Justin said, “Brian, did you really want to die? Were things really that awful?”

Christ, how the fuck did we get back to this? I knew that revealing that was going to end up badly, he thought. “I don’t know, Justin,” he said, semi-honestly. “I downplayed it in Miranda’s office. I used a scarf and tied the knot loose enough that I knew that I’d be able to get down after I got off. But I don’t know what would have happened if Michael hadn’t walked in when he did.” 

“So you were ambivalent about dying?”

It was Brian’s turn to focus his attention on his hands. “Yeah, I was ambivalent about dying. I just wanted to experience the best fucking orgasm of my life. I wasn’t analyzing my motivations at the time.”

“So were you just stoned on weed?”

“Hey,” Brian said, suddenly understanding the dark turn the conversation had taken. “I hadn’t done any coke that night or taken amyl nitrite. I was fairly cognizant of what was going on. I certainly had no intentions of kicking the stool over or anything like that.” Then he asked, “Justin, if I’d died on the table in Baltimore, what would you have done?”

“I can handle you being sick. I could handle it if it were AIDS, Brian. I can forget that you felt it unnecessary to tell me such an important detail of your life but I wouldn’t have forgiven you if you’d died on that table. How I could mean so fucking little to you after all we’ve been through together. It would have felt like Hobbs and my dad and Ethan meant nothing.” He focused on Brian’s face and then said, “I’d have gone on because I know you would want me to go on with my life. But I would have wanted to go into that black oblivion after you.”

“Fuck,” Brian said, burying his head in his hands. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. I’m not worth it, Justin.”

Moving closer to him, Justin said, voice soft, yet ringing in the silent loft. “I don’t mean to make a Shakespeare moment out of it, Bri. I know we’re nobody’s interpretation of Romeo and Juliet but I love you. And I don’t like my life without you in it.”

“But you’ve got the Institute and Rage and your mom and sister.”

“Don’t you know by now that you’re the most important thing in my world?”

“And that’s fucked up even for us,” Brian said, desolation in his eyes. “You ever think that maybe it would’ve been better if you’d gone to school out of state like in New York?”

Hurt by the implication, Justin said, “I didn’t stay to be near you. Really, I didn’t. I stayed because the Institute is a good school.” Continuing, he said, “And when you were working on Stockwell’s campaign weren’t you still considering a move to New York? Still imagining yourself in an office on Madison Avenue?”

Since that was true, Brian could only nod, feeling miserable again. “Yeah.”

“And what about me?”

“You know Michael told me to take you with me if I went to New York when I was working for that prick’s campaign.”

Justin shook his head slowly. He hadn’t known that. “And your response?”

“I told him that no matter what happened I’d always love him.”

Of course. Of course. And Brian wonders why Michael always, always, tries to fuck things up between us? It’s because he extends the carrot to him like he’s a fucking horse and Brian’s the prize. And he can tell Michael he loves him but he can’t tell me. It was no use pretending that the oversight didn’t hurt because it did. Deep down inside it hurt Justin’s soul that he knew Brian loved him and couldn’t vocalize the words. At least not to him. God, we are fucked, he thought, disheartened. He was aware that something was changing in him, at least. He felt restless and knew that wasn’t a good feeling or a safe feeling. The last time he’d felt this way he’d ended up walking out on Brian. But he knew Brian was trying his best and had the sobering thought that Brian’s best simply wasn’t good enough for him.

“Justin?” Brian’s voice intruded into his mordant thoughts.

Reconciling his darker thoughts to the back of his mind, Justin returned his attention to the present. “Let’s go to the diner.”

Looking at his lover, Brian knew that things were off-balance once again. Fuck. What the hell did I do now? I’m trying, dammit. I’m trying to be a good partner. I’ve fucking changed my whole life for him. Threw my fucking rules out the window in an effort to please him. But he said none of that. It wasn’t worth the fight and frankly he didn’t want to see the blond walk out the door on him again. Because he knew that it would be the final time and Brian simply didn’t want to face the reality of not having Justin. Had already experienced that and it was like living a nightmare.

Still he sat there silently until he could meet Justin's eyes without losing it and having another drama queen moment like the one he'd had at Kinnetik. "I need some air. Have the fucking Thai. I'll be back later."

"Brian?"

Grabbing his jacket, Brian simply strode to the loft door, without looking back at Justin, knowing that his partner's eyes followed his every movement. He didn't know that when the loft door slammed shut, Justin curled up in a ball on their bed, on his side of the bed, and began to cry, great gulping sobs that wracked his entire slender frame until he fell into an exhausted torpor.

Brian walked down to the street, unsure of his destination, but knowing he just needed to get away from Justin before they made things worse. It was not surprising when he ended up at the diner. He could see the familiar red wig from the street outside and hesitated a moment before walking inside. Debbie still wasn't speaking to him; he supposed she was still smarting from his ill-advised comments about Vic being lucky he'd gotten as much time as he had. 

Taking a deep breath and feeling as though he were facing a Nazi death squad, Brian opened the door and took a seat at the counter. Deb didn't even look at him as he walked in though he knew she was fully aware of his presence. I mean, I'm Brian Kinney, he thought, how can she not know that I walked through the door? Hell, I'm the gay fucking Moses, he thought, realizing his thoughts were heretical to say the least. Throngs of people part like the Red fucking Sea when I walk through the door at Babylon. He was completely cognizant of his narcissism and arrogance but he was tired and hurt and this shit with Justin was going to slowly drive him mad. What the fuck did the kid want? And why do I give a shit?

Kiki, formerly Kenny, saw Brian and looked at Deb and then suddenly grasped the situation. The mother hen and one of her chicks were on the outs, she judged. And from the carefully calculated way Debbie was avoiding even looking Brian's direction, it was clear she was pissed as hell at him. So Kiki went over to him, and said, "Hey, Brian. What can I get for you?"

"Turkey sandwich---" Brian began and Kiki tentatively smiled at him.

"Wheat bread. No mayo. And a cup of black coffee, right?"

Brian nodded. Sometimes predictability was a blessing not a sign that one was boring and rigid in adhering to a routine. When his sandwich came out and Kiki wrapped it up for him in a brown bag, he saw Debbie struggle into an oversized coat that made her look like an Eskimo. Somehow he thought she'd be less than amused at the comparison. Debbie was rather sensitive about her weight and she'd continued working on it even after she and Horvath broke up. Brian wished that she'd find someone to make her happy. She deserved to not to have to live her life alone.

Debbie carefully avoided looking at Brian as she passed by him, so close she could smell the scent of his cologne. She let the diner door slam slightly and then Brian sent a grateful look in Kiki's direction, thankful for her discretion. Leaving the diner, Brian walked out and easily caught up to her, his longer strides matching her shorter ones. 

Aware of his presence, Debbie still maintained her fierce demeanor, determined not to make the first move. Little asshole, she thought, still fuming. I love the kid but he still pisses the hell out of me.

Brian took a deep breath and said, "In case you didn't notice, I was in the diner."

Adopting a chilly tone that bore no resemblance to the one that Joan often adopted, Debbie nevertheless gave it the old college try as she said, "I noticed."

Okay, Brian thought, she's not going to make this easy for me. I'm going to have to eat crow here. "Walk you home?"

Hmph. Now he decides to do the chivalrous thing. I'm not some wounded bird although knowing him he'd probably just wring its neck to put it out of its misery, she thought, completely without compassion. "No, that's OK."

Christ, what the fuck do I have to do? I'm fucking sorry. "It's late." Well, Kinney, that's not the most brilliant observation you could have made. But it was accurate.

Biting back a smile because she was aware of what Brian was trying to do. Hell, she'd only known the man since he was fourteen. "I've been doin' it on my own for 20 years. I can take care of myself."

Brian studied the pavement as they continued to walk, aware that she was thawing. Trying to joke with her, he said, rubbing his jaw, "And you've got the right hook to prove it."

A fresh surge of guilt hit Debbie as she realized that she'd never hit Brian before. And that it had come out of left field when she'd hit him. A fresh reminder of hurts that he'd incurred in the past. She turned to look at him slightly. "You workin' late?"

Deciding not to clarify the situation or admit that he'd had a fight with Justin, Brian simply said, "Just gotta get the job done."

Needling him in the way only Debbie could do, she said, "Used to be the reason you'd stay up was because it was still up."

No sense debating what she meant. Brian was fully aware that she thought he lived his life through his dick and she wasn't wrong. "A lot of things used to be."

Debbie sensed the shift in Brian's tone of voice and gave him a considering look from beneath lowered lashes. Something's wrong, she realized. And the kiddo's running scared. But she was still smarting from the slight against Vic's memory and so she didn't bend as she said, "You're telling me."

Christ, Brian thought. What the hell do I have to do to make it up? Debbie's the only person who's ever been like a mom to me. She took care of me when Jack beat the shit out of me and didn't bat a false eyelash when I stumbled down to breakfast in the morning after crawling into Mikey's bedroom window. But he knew that his careless words about Vic had wounded her deeply. "I shouldn't have said what I did. About Vic."

Debbie stopped and turned to him. "You're damn straight you shouldn't have! Not that you were wrong. He was lucky he got those extra years. But it's the way you said it, just tossing it off like it didn't mean a thing! Like his whole fucking life didn't mean a thing!"

Brian took a deep breath. At the present, he realized just how much he valued life and considered himself fucking lucky that he wasn't felled by AIDS. When he looked at Hunter and saw that his childhood was effectively gone, Brian saw the life he could have led if things had turned out differently. If he hadn't gotten a soccer scholarship to Penn and gotten his degree to the immense displeasure of his old man, proving that Jack Kinney's son was better than his old man. But Brian had never lived his life by "ifs" and he wasn't going to start now. Not while he was still able to hold his head up high and know that he was still the reigning King of Liberty Avenue while his lover was the former King of Babylon. Still he hesitated before speaking. More than anyone Debbie's reaction could hurt him. She, like Justin, could wound him without even making an effort. "I can see your point," Brian bit the words out.

"Yeah," she questioned, "so why didn't you see it then?"

Taking another deep breath and steeling himself for the inevitability of impact, Brian said, "Maybe because I didn't know I had cancer then."

It was Debbie's turn to make a full stop as she turned to gape at him with shock and fear racing through her body. "What?" Oh, my God! My poor baby. 

"You gonna make me say it twice?" he grumbled, not sure he could.

Debbie stared at him. "I just wanted to be sure that I heard---"

"You heard it."

Oh, holy mother Mary! "Shit! Are you -?"

Brian looked at her, his own expression softening in the cast given off by the streetlight. "All right? They think. But who the hell knows?"

Making a rapid shift to mother hen protecting her chicks, Debbie burst out, "Well, then what the fuck are you doing out here? You should be home, getting your rest, honey!"

Somehow Brian doubted that Justin would let him do that. He fully expected to bear the wrath of the blond upon his return. But he just couldn't stay there and deal with the emotional warfare. And besides every time he slept he kept having these fucking dreams. "I can't sleep," he admitted, hating the vulnerable note that crept into his voice. "I keep having these fucking dreams."

Allowing her concern to show on her face, Debbie said, "Well, force yourself. And make sure you eat. You hear me? You gotta keep your strength up."

Fighting back a smile of his own because even Brian Kinney appreciated being mothered at times, he said, "Yes, mother."

Debbie took a step towards him, reaching for the flaps of his coat and began to button it for him. Then she looked up at him, deciding to broach a subject that she never liked discussing with Brian. That of his own mother. "Does she know?"

Brian shook his head. "So far, just Michael and Justin. And," he paused for dramatic effect, "Theodore."

Agape and disgruntled by the fact that no one had found it necessary to tell her such a big detail of Brian's life, she said, irritated, "And nobody told me?"

Carefully controlling his voice and evening it out, Brian said, with as much quiet as he could muster, "I'm telling you."

Not even Debbie Novotny could miss the gravity of the statement as it passed Brian's lips. Oh, she thought. Poor baby. "How come?"

Flashing a Kinney smirk in her direction, still brilliant but dimmed somewhat in its wattage, he said,"So that you'll forgive me and take pity on me."

Debbie went up on her tiptoes so she could stare deep into his eyes and study his face. Even she could see the lines under Brian's eyes and the shadows cast by sleepless nights. "Son of a bitch," she muttered. But she reached to give him a hug and said, "You gonna be OK, you hear me?"

Brian nodded, grateful for the assertion that he wasn't going to die because of this fucking disease. He simply let Debbie hug him and found himself hugging her right back. 

Later that night, Brian let himself into a darkened loft. He sat at the counter and quietly ate his turkey sandwich noticing that there was no disturbance in the kitchen. He figured Justin had either lost his appetite or been very neat. He figured it was the former because in this little relationship he was the one who was anal retentive.

He undressed, letting his clothes fall where they may, and stood for long moments, looking down at the blond sleeping on his side of the bed. He noticed how Justin cuddled his pillow as if it were a lover. God, he thought, when did this become so fucking important to me? When did the loft became a home? He knew the answer: the night he let a seventeen-year-old twink spend the night and worm his way into his heart. Slipping into bed beside Justin, Brian let him stay where he was, content for the moment to sleep in Justin's shadow.

The next day, Justin found himself in the Red Cape. He and Michael had negotiated a tentative truce contingent on Michael's agreement to keep his nose out of his relationship with Brian. But Justin found to his horror that he actually considered asking Michael for help. The no sex thing was driving both him and Brian crazy and neither of them had mentioned their fight the previous night.

Letting some of his fears creep through, Justin found himself agreeing with skepticism to Michael's suggestion that they visit Ben's herbalist in Pittsburgh's Chinatown. Emerging from the shop with a bag of herbs, Justin had no idea that he and Michael had both been accurately pinned down as being bottoms in their respective relationships.

While Justin was busy trying to find a miracle cure for Brian, Brian slipped out of Kinnetik, telling Cynthia he had to take care of a personal errand. His assistant simply raised her eyebrows but didn't ask any questions. She'd learned that it was wiser not to question her hot-tempered boss.

Not sure of where he was going but knowing he had to do something, Brian found himself at his familiar haunt: the steam room at the gym. He wrapped a towel low around his waist and entered the steam room, judging the prospects. Not too bad, he thought. A few caught his eye but nothing spectacular. Christ, have I become so discriminating? He thought. Then, he noticed a potential trick aggressively and obviously cruising him. Stroking himself through the towel, Brian tested the waters. He'd finally decided that Justin's suggestion bore investigation. But he really wasn't into it and, quite frankly, not much was happening. The trick crept up behind him, resting hands on his shoulders, then began to move them downwards, while Brian kept a wary eye on his equipment. Finally deciding it wasn't worth risking humiliation, Brian pulled away and left for the locker room, pained disgust clear as red paint on his face.

A few days later, Brian and Justin found themselves alone at the loft. Brian reclined on the futon mattress as Justin stood at the stove, stirring something. Wrinkling his nose at the unpleasant and unfamiliar scents wafting through the loft, Brian couldn't help wondering what was up. And, unfortunately, it wasn't that. 

Finally finishing his Dr. Lao moment, Justin brought Brian a steaming mug, saying, "Here. Drink this."

Looking up at him with wide eyes, Brian snarked, "Smells like yak shit."

Justin couldn't help but laugh. He'd seen all manners of things in the herbalist shop that didn't bear further investigation; too fucking scary. "Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if that was in it, too." Then, smiling, he said, "It's a magic potion from a Chinese herbalist."

Growing reluctant but not wishing to turn down Justin after all he'd done for him, Brian took the mug, and looked at him, saying, "Will it make me small?"

God, I feel like Alice in fucking Wonderland, Brian thought. Justin gave him a brilliant smile and said, "I'm hoping it will make you large. Very, very large." 

Grasping the mug with two hands and feeling as though he'd rather throw the vile smelling concoction down the drain, Brian nevertheless drank it like a dutiful little boy. Swallowing and thinking he'd never tasted anything quite so awful, he said, "That is disgusting."

"Who cares," Justin said, meeting his eyes, "as long as it works."

Since Brian put no more store in the ancient practices of Chinese medicine, despite the wonders worked by acupuncturists, than he did in astrology, he remained skeptical, saying nothing. But then he looked into Justin's eye and saw the trust and love shining from the blue eyes and realized that he couldn't really deny his blond much of anything. 

He leaned forward and Justin met his lips with his own as they gently kissed. Breaking away, Justin said, "Do you feel anything?"

Brian strove not to feel offended since he knew Justin loved him for more than his dick but they were both being pressed to their breaking point. Struggling for a non-hostile remark, he said, "IF you're expecting my glasses to steam up, I hate to disappoint you."

Justin glanced at him. Oops, he thought. Then he settled for an attempt at humor, "It's supposed to rekindle the fire in your life gate."

Finding the idea of that wholly ludicrous and not worth debating, Brian said, "My life gate?" What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Smiling, Justin said, "I know it sounds ludicrous." Unwittingly he'd echoed Brian's thoughts. Strange how he was able to do that more and more often now. "But if it works for you, who gives a shit?"

Brian turned away and took a few steps in the other direction, facing away from him, hiding the hurt and pain he felt. "Yeah, well, maybe it can stop me thinking about what's no longer there. And that in its place is this piece of plastic. Or from picturing them sucking a bloody, disease-ridden ball out of me. Or from feeling so shitty from having them burn me to a crisp from their raygun that all I want to do is dig a hole and crawl in - only I'm too busy vomiting. Who knows? Maybe then I might even be able to get it up." Brian hated exposing his fears so openly to Justin but then he felt the comforting pressure of Justin's hands on his shoulders as he began to rub his shoulders. 

Resting his chin on his shoulder, Justin said, quietly, "There's gotta be something."

Trying vainly at humor and knowing he fell far short of his goal, Brian said, "Well, whatever it is, it's not a cup of Lipton's." 

At that Justin found he had no response that seemed even remotely adequate. So he found himself leading Brian up to the bedroom, undressing him, and lying down next to him. It wasn't entirely a surprise when Justin found himself drawn nearer to him, so that he was resting in the crook of Brian's arm. 

Looking at Brian, he said, quietly, "It's going to be okay, Brian."

Left unsaid was we're going to be okay. Brian simply stayed silent as he closed his eyes, letting the stability of Justin's breathing coax him into a sleep, that was for once without dreams. Sometimes it was better to put one's hope in a higher power than to try to manipulate the outcome.


	22. Acknowledging Fears

Brian awoke to an empty bed. He looked around and saw Justin at the bar, working on his laptop. Pulling himself to a sitting position, then standing, he went to join his boyfriend at the bar. Snaking his arms around Justin, Brian pulled him flush against him, feeling the slight hesitation before Justin leaned back against him.

“That stuff tasted like yak shit,”Brian said. “You really think it’ll work?”

Justin shrugged and turned slightly. “Ben swears by it and Michael said it really has helped in reducing his viral load. He paused for a moment and said, “I called Miranda.”

Huh? However, Brian covered his reaction with a nonchalant, “Really?”

Nodding, Justin said, “We need to talk.”

“I hate it when you fucking say that,” he griped. But he knew that their argument a few nights ago had to be addressed.

“Brian,” Justin began, hesitating while Brian loosened his grip around him. He turned completely so he could face the older man. “I lashed out at you.”

“No shit, Sunshine. But I deserved it.”

Christ, Justin thought. Why does he put up with this shit from me? “No, you didn’t. And you didn’t deserve it when I hit you that night.”

“I know you didn’t mean it, sonny boy. It just happened when adrenaline was pumping through you. It killed me that I hit you back. Wasn’t ever supposed to happen like that. We’re not Jack and Joan.”

Justin sighed then looked at Brian, suddenly seeing how much older Brian really looked. Still gorgeous as ever but older as if the experience of cancer and living his own fucked-up life had suddenly begun to take its course. “Why didn’t you tell me how badly the stuff with the Pink Posse was fucking with your head? I would’ve stopped.”

Brian shook his head. “You needed to work through that stuff on your own. It hurt that I couldn’t fix this problem for you. Cody scared the fuck out of me. You were listening to him and getting bad advice. You realize I actually agreed with your mom?”

Snorting, Justin said, “You agreed with my mom? You never agree with mom about anything.”

“Yeah, Sunshine, I do. I just hardly ever tell you about it. But I thought she was right.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Brian looked down and then met Justin’s querying eyes. “Because I wasn’t the solution to this. If anything, I was the fucking problem. We tried to recreate the prom after you got hurt and I took you back to the parking garage to see if it would spark your memory but nothing happened. Do you know how difficult it was for me to pull the jeep into that parking spot and tell you what happened? If I’d been a split second sooner…” his voice trailed off.

“Brian, baby,” Justin started, then hesitated because Brian hated it when he called him by a nickname. Fuck it, he thought, starting over again. “Brian, if you hadn’t called my name when you did he might have hit me harder. I might not even be here.”

“I saw you look back at me and I felt my heart stop for a moment then the bat made impact. That’s why I didn’t want you facing that little fuck out there with that psychopath as your only back up. Hobbs is a closet case, Justin. When you came home that night running on adrenaline and we had sex I wasn’t sure if it was really you I was fucking or not.”

Justin smiled sadly at that. Brian glared and snarled, “What? It’s not fucking funny. It’s like you were fucking possessed.”

“No, Brian, it’s not,” Justin said, agreeing. “How many nights do you think I’ve felt that way? I have seen you so high I had to drag your ass back up to the loft. Not to mention all the times you have gotten so plastered that you thought everything was hysterical. It’s ironic hearing you say that you weren’t sure that it was me you were fucking.”

Brian started at that. He started to counter and then he realized it was true. What Justin had said was true. He’d never realized how the drugs had affected his sex life with Justin. So he stood there and contemplated his life. “So why are you going to talk to Miranda?” Better to change the subject, he thought, before I admit something that I can’t take back.

“I need to figure out what the fuck I’m going to do. I feel like I am on shifting sands again, Brian. I hate this feeling.”

“Things are okay between us, right?” God, please don’t let the nightmare of ten months ago repeat itself, he thought. “You’re not thinking about walking again, are you?” Then he flushed as he realized he’d asked the latter question aloud. Fuck me.

Justin stood and cupped Brian’s chin, with his hand, forcing the man to look at him. “No, I’m not walking out on you again. I told you when we got back together that we needed to talk. That I’d tell you when I’m feeling insecure. So I’m telling you now. I have my own shit to deal with, Brian. It’s not all about you. I’m just as fucked up as you are.”

“You gonna use this against me?”

“Feeling vulnerable is okay, Brian. It doesn’t mean you’re a pussy. It means you’re human.”

“So things are good between us?”

Justin smiled ruefully. “Yeah, Bri. It still fucking pisses me off that you kicked me out like you did but we’re okay. And I need to find out what the hell he wants.”

At that, Brian smiled tentatively. Then he gathered his resolve and said, “We need to talk more, don’t we?”

“Yeah, communication was never our strong suit. We’re much better in bed,” Justin admitted. “But we need to talk to each other if we’re gonna survive.”

Brian sighed. “I know you wonder about my past and I never want to fucking talk about it. Maybe someday I’ll be able to.”

“Why can you talk to Michael about it and not me?” Justin asked, recognizing the plaintive note in his voice and hating himself for it.

“Come here.”

Following Brian, the duo lay down on the mattress and Justin looked at him, seeing the pain in his hazel eyes. But he knew that it was Brian who had to start this conversation not him. Brian finally looked at him, reluctantly meeting his eyes. “I can talk to Mikey because he was there for most of it. I can talk to Miranda because she was there for a lot of the shit before I had Mikey. For a long time, he was my sounding board, the only person who I could talk to. Claire was four years older, Justin. She was jealous of me but it wasn’t her who Pop lit into on a daily basis. I was the unlucky recipient of Jack Kinney’s attention. You think you know me but you don’t.”

“I do know you,” Justin insisted. “I know that you are kind, loving, giving…”

“And a narcissistic, egotistical, vain asshole who thinks only with his dick. I’m bad at this relationship shit, Justin. Why did you come back after I kicked you out of Kinnetik?”

Justin looked down at his hands and finally said, “I wasn’t going to.”

Brian looked up at that, unable to completely conceal his shock at Justin’s words. That was a possibility he had never even considered even when he’d shoved him off the proverbial cliff. Then Justin continued to speak, “Michael met up with me on Liberty. I was fucking pissed because I realized he had told you I knew you were sick. It was the only explanation for you tossing me out like you did because I hadn’t told anyone else except Michael. So he reminded me that I knew the Brian Kinney Operating Manual.”

Brian couldn’t help smiling at that. “The Kinney operating manual, huh? So you think I need an instruction manual?”

Justin couldn’t bring himself to smile. “He said that you didn’t want me to see you because you were no longer perfect.”

Brian’s smile faded. “I----”

“That you thought I was going to leave you. Did you really think that I would leave you because you lost a testicle? Do you think I’m so shallow?”

“No,” Brian said quietly. “You’re not shallow, Justin. I just didn’t want you to see me as an obligation. But go on and finish telling me why you came back.”

“You’re so goddamn stubborn that you think being alone is better for you than showing vulnerability. It’s not, Brian. And I don’t understand why you’d choose to be alone when you have so many people who care about you. Who love you.”

“None of them adore me as much as you do,” Brian said, his voice barely audible. And that was the difference Justin loved him as he was.

“Look at me, Brian.” Brian couldn’t meet his eyes and Justin said, more forcefully, “Look at me, damn it.”

When Brian finally met his eyes, Justin said, “After Ethan, I came back because I realized that I would never love him the way I love you. I couldn’t. What you said that first night is true, Brian. It didn’t matter who I was with it was always your face I’d see when I shot. Doesn’t matter how hot the guy’s ass was or how great he was at giving head it was still you. Do you know that I went home the night you kicked me out and cried myself to sleep? Daphne left me alone but she made sure that I had ice cream and knew that I could call her if I needed her. But what I needed was you. Brian, I need you.”

“You have me.”

Justin looked at him. “No, I don’t. I have parts of you but I don’t have all of you.”

Brian sighed. “I can tell you stuff that I can’t tell Mikey. When I sold the contents of the loft to pay for the ads to ruin that fascist pig, you didn’t run. In fact, you stayed with me and it wasn’t out of the goodness of your heart. You wanted me. Me. Not the contents of my checkbook or a plasma television or an excellent entertainment center or my dick. You don’t get this from just anyone. I know that you love me, Justin. I just sometimes forget it and I don’t understand it. Why me? Why the hell did you choose me?”

Justin took a deep breath. “Because from the moment I saw you I’ve been yours. Heart and soul. Doesn’t matter how fucked up that seems. Our souls recognized each other. Go ahead and scoff but there’s something that drew us together.” He expected Brian to dismiss his words as bullshit but Brian lay there with a considering expression on his face. 

“Do you really believe that?” Brian paused, “That it’s destiny that we found each other?”

“I don’t know, Bri. But there’s a reason we keep coming back to each other.”

“How long would you wait?” Brian asked.

Justin stared at him. Wait for what? Then he said, “Brian, I’d wait forever. I know that the words were part of the reason I left. But it wasn’t the part where you said that you couldn’t say the words that bothered me so much and left me disillusioned.”

“Then what was it?” he gently prodded.

“The part where you said that you wouldn’t ever give me the words. The night of the Rage party, I was going to break it off with Ethan. I still loved you but when I saw you fucking the actor playing Rage something broke inside of me. It’s like the last thread of hope was severed and I was left hanging over the abyss. You weren’t there to catch me anymore and it’s like you had just given up on me, on us.” So had I.

Fuck me, Brian thought. “Did you see my eyes that night?”

No sense debating which one Brian meant. Justin slowly nodded. “I know that the only reason you slept that night is because I came back. I lay awake for hours in your arms, Brian, just staring into the darkness. When I came home that night, I knew I’d hurt you.”

“If you knew then why the fuck did you go? You broke down all my fucking walls Justin. I built a fortress like Jericho and you somehow became the hammer that broke the stones apart. My facade wasn’t worth shit because you could see through it. Christ!” No point hiding the agony in the exhalation.

“Because somewhere along the way I realized that we didn’t know each other anymore. I’m not entirely sure when it happened but the birthday hustler didn’t help matters much.” 

“It was a good idea in theory but bad in practice. Kind of like the floorshow. You know I’ve heard that Curtis has turned into quite the little bottom. He’s giving Todd a run for his money as the best bottom boy at Babylon,” Brian said, joking. Then his mood turned serious, “I thought you would find it hot. I’ve always enjoyed watching you fuck someone else.”

“I know it gets you off, Brian. But that was the second least pleasurable sexual experience of my life. I knew that I had to get off or fake it really well because I knew you’d spent a shit-load on a rent-boy for me. I didn’t want roses or candlelight; I just wanted some acknowledgment of the day.”

“I know that now,” he said, sighing again. “Christ, this is fucked up.”

Justin laughed at the weariness in Brian’s voice. “No shit. That’s not news to either of us. You know I bitched about going to Miranda’s but I think it was good for me.”

Brian arched an eyebrow. “So you don’t think psychiatry and psychology is a bunch of bullshit?”

“I didn’t say that,” Justin said. “But I need to talk to someone about all this.”

“And me?”

“One day we’re going to need to talk about the prom and exactly why it was that you came and why it’s so important to you that I get my memory back of that night.”

Brian closed his eyes against the pain of the memory. I was so fucking open that night, he thought, and he cannot even remember it. I told him I loved him that night in front of all those people. It’s more naked than I’ve ever been. Sure, I do casual nudity but I was naked that night, laid bare for all to see. All for him. Only for him..

“Brian,” Justin’s soft voice jolted him out of his memory. “I’m going to try to track him down. Need to find out what the hell he wanted.”

Brian’s mouth twisted in a loose version of a snarl. “No fucking violin music, Sunshine.”

Tempted to tease Brian, Justin nevertheless refrained, saying only, “I’ll be coming home to you.”

“You need a ride to the ninth circle of hell?”

Justin looked at him and said, “Would it make you feel better if you came along?”

Brian hesitated, considering that for a moment, then shook his head slowly. “No,” he began, and then continued, “I trust you.”

The import of that simple statement was not lost on either one of them. Justin met the hazel eyes and saw the reluctance and fear on the surface though it would never be voiced by Brian. “I love you, Brian.”

He simply nodded. “Call me, sonny boy, if you need me to pick you up. I can take you to Miranda’s.”

“You want to sit in on the session?”

Brian shook his head. “It’s your time, Justin. I know that I am a control freak but even I understand that you have your own barriers erected for reasons I don’t know. Sometime we’re going to have to talk about your childhood and deal with your issues with your father.”

 

Justin moved closer to him and felt the reassuring warmth of Brian as the older man embraced him. He was tempted to speak but didn’t say anything, content for the moment just to be with Brian; no expectations, no reservations, just be with Brian. He let Brian hug him and for the moment his worries slipped away.

Later that day, Justin found himself hesitating outside Ethan’s door. He could hear the faint strains of violin music through the door and lifted his hand to knock. When he heard Ethan’s shout, “It’s open,” Justin was reminded of the first time he’d stood outside this door. But so much had changed and it was a path better left shrouded in the mists of his memory. Besides, he’d never really loved Ethan. It had always been Brian. Always would be Brian.

So Justin tentatively turned the knob and opened the door to find Ethan standing in the middle of the small, cramped apartment. Ethan’s eyes darkened imperceptibly and Justin saw Wolfram in a corner. Things hadn’t changed much. “Wondered when you’d deign to grace this humble abode with your presence.”

“Pissing me off isn’t the best way to have an enlightening conversation, Ethan. What the fuck do you want? I’m back with Brian.”

“See living with His Highness has rubbed off on you,” Ethan snarled, but he set the violin down on the bed. “You never used to be so unsubtle.”

“That’s rich. I came to see you. That should tell you something.”

“Is His Highness skulking in the corridor?”

Christ, Justin thought, he just can’t help himself. “I don’t need Brian as back-up. And I’d appreciate it if you’d stop flinging shit at my partner.”

Ethan couldn’t help it, his mouth dropped open in shock. “Partner?” Then he began laughing uncontrollably until tears rolled down his cheeks. “Brian Kinney, the whore of Liberty Avenue is your partner? Partner in what? A ménage a trios or a quartet? Christ, Justin, don’t be so fucking naïve. He’ll never give you monogamy.”

Justin glared at his ex-lover. “I’ll walk out the fucking door. Ethan, you came to our home. What the hell did you want? That took balls.” Then he continued, “And Brian is what I’ve always wanted. You lost the right to pass judgment on Brian when you fucked the groupie. Playing a hypocrite is so unattractive.”

Understanding that he was walking a fine line and that Justin was less than willing to hear Brian’s name dragged through the mud, Ethan met Justin’s eyes. “I came to tell you that I have bone marrow cancer.”

At that, Justin fell onto the couch. Well, fuck me, and without lube too, he thought. He looked at Ethan and saw that the other man was not laughing or kidding. “You’re kidding, right?”

Slowly Ethan shook his head. “No, it was diagnosed seven months ago.”

“And you’re telling me this now because…” Justin’s voice trailed off as he looked up.

“I don’t want you back, Justin. I saw you and Kinney together. I still think he’s bad for you but you love him and I think that it’s entirely possible that he loves you. So I’m telling you because I thought you had a right to know. Brian doesn’t have to worry about me fucking things up between you two again. I’m out.”

Justin had to take a deep breath. “How bad is it?” No matter how badly they’d fucked things up with each other, he’d still care about Ethan on a friendship level, but it went no further than that. They couldn’t go back to the way things were.

“Stage 3. I’m on a waiting list for a transplant. But the doctors aren’t hopeful. My parents mortgaged their house but they’re barely speaking to me. Having a son who is gay and who pretends to be straight for the sake of his career isn’t exactly someone they feel they can be proud of. So it’s pretty fucking tense.”

Justin rose and looked directly at his ex-lover. “Why did you come to Brian’s to tell me this? You could have told me via e-mail or over the phone. I’d have taken your call.”

Ethan slowly shook his head and sadly looked at him. “No, baby, you wouldn’t have. And an e-mail would’ve been so fucking impersonal. I have more respect for you than that. And I came to Brian’s because I felt that he deserved to know that I’m no threat.”

“Do you really think Brian ever saw you as a threat?” Justin couldn’t believe the nerve of Ethan notwithstanding his illness. “And don’t call me baby.”

Ethan smiled. “Yeah, for all his arrogance and panache, Brian saw me as a threat. He knew that I was giving you what he couldn’t or wouldn’t. He knew he was going to lose you and he was running scared. But I’m not here to fuck things up again for you two. I only wish I could’ve been the one you met first. So I’m here to say goodbye and say that the best man won.”

“It wasn’t a contest.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Ethan said sadly. He walked over to where Justin sat, still shell-shocked. “I did love you, Justin. It was a stupid thing that happened but it got you back where you belong.”

“So it was a selfless act of nobility?”

“No,” he admitted. “It was a test to see if you were willing to forgive me the same faults that you seemingly forgave Brian.”

“You aren’t Brian. You will never be Brian. And it’s fucked up to think that you could have even competed with him.”

“I know that. I hope you and Brian are happy together. God knows that even Kinney deserves some semblance of happiness. And I know that you would never have loved me the way you love him. So I came back to the Pitts to tie up loose ends not stir the pot. Goodbye, Justin.”

Justin stood and said, “Goodbye Ethan. I’m sorry that you are sick.” Irony at its finest, he couldn’t help thinking.

He stood and walked to the door without looking back. When he shut the door, he heard the strains of violin music begin again, a breathtakingly sad song that tore at the heart and soul. But his time for sadness was over. He walked out of the building that had never been a home and sat down on the steps. He dialed a number and said, “Hey, come get me. It’s over.”

Brian heard the strange note in Justin’s voice but didn’t push him on it. He figured he’d find out the 411 soon enough without pushing. The one thing they had back again was honesty. And as he pulled up outside the building, he saw Justin sitting on the steps, looking sadder than he’d ever seen him. What did that little fuck do? I’ll fucking kill his ass if he hurt Justin. He put the ‘vette in park and got out. Sinking down on the steps beside Justin, Brian waited for the younger man to speak.

“Brian,” Justin said, his voice quiet and small. If he asks me what’s with the little voice I’ll walk home, he thought. I’ll fucking walk home.

“Yeah, sonny boy. I’m here. What did the little shit say?”

Justin laughed at that but it was a hollow sound. “He’s got bone marrow cancer, Brian. Isn’t that ironic?”

“Yeah,” Brian said, his own thoughts whirling. Well, shit, I never thought it’d be something like this. “How far along is he?”

“Stage 3. Didn’t catch it sooner. He’s on a wait list for a transplant but it doesn’t look good. His parents are barely speaking to him.”

“He’s out to them, right?”

Justin nodded. Brian couldn’t help feeling a teeny bit sorry for the younger man. “You okay?”

“Not really.”

“Want me to talk to him?”

Justin looked at Brian then, and shook his head slowly. “He’s not a threat, Bri. He came back to tell me that he knew the better man had won. That his liaison with the groupie was a test.”

“Test of what?”

“Test of whether or not I could forgive him like I forgave you. He doesn’t get it, Brian. He gave me that fucking ring and I wore it because he made a promise of fidelity.”

“You shouldn’t believe in rose gardens, baby.”

Justin stared at him. “You never call me baby. You hate that fucking nickname and it’s always Sunshine or Sonny boy. Why now?”

“Oh maybe, because the one man who fucked the tapestry of our lives up is in a shitty studio apartment playing violin music knowing that he’s dying. And I’m down here with the love of his life feeling just a little bit bad because I’m gonna make it. And they’ll be playing some religious crap at his funeral and you’ll be morose.” Brian looked at him. “I feel bad for him, Justin. He’s too young to die.”

“I thought you saw the appeal in dying young. Always young, always beautiful…”

“And they’ll always be dead.” Brian finished the statement and sighed. “I don’t know if I believe that anymore, Sunshine.”

“So these great revelations you are suddenly espousing are really Kinney-isms.”

“Hey, if you’re pissed off at someone don’t take it out on me.” Brian looked up at the building and rose to his feet. He stood in front of the door and looked down at Justin. “It’s okay to be sad.”

“That’s really funny coming from you.”

Brian glared at him. “Justin, I know what it’s like to have mortality stare at you and then slap your ass down. But this is a thousand times worse. He knows he’s gonna fucking die unless a miracle happens. I got lucky. A trick sucked me off and happened to be a doctor. Six or nine months down the road we might be telling a different story. I don’t like Ian but even I don’t want the man to die. So yeah I think its okay for you to be sad. You cared about him.”

Justin looked at him. “Mind if we go get a drink before I talk to Miranda?”

“Home?” Brian asked.

Nodding, Justin rose to his own feet. “Brian.”

Brian turned back to him. And Justin said, “This was never a home. It was just a place where I escaped. But I never ever considered it a home.”

Slowly Brian nodded. He got the importance of what Justin was saying without him really saying it. That was the difference that their connection played. They could read each other without the words being spelled out in neon. They didn’t need that anymore and he was fucking grateful for that.

Up in the apartment, the windows slowly fluttered closed as Ethan watched Brian and Justin drive away. Well, he thought, at least one of us is happy. And he deserves that. He returned to playing and knew that a chapter of his life was over, the tale had been told and he’d lost. But he’d always have the memory of those few months when it was him that Justin turned to in the middle of the night. 

At Miranda’s office, Justin found himself in the waiting room with Brian seated next to him. “You don’t have to stay,” Justin said. “I don’t need you to hold my hand.”

“Twat,” Brian said. “Who said I’m staying here for you?”

Not wishing to have a fight, Justin simply shook his head. Brian would never change and despite his earlier words to both he and Ethan, Justin was kind of shaken by the news of Ethan’s illness. That hadn’t been what he’d expected to hear. So when Miranda walked out of her office and called him inside he was relieved.

Closing the door behind them, Justin took a seat as Miranda returned to her own seat. “I have to admit I was kind of surprised to hear from you so soon. I didn’t think you’d call me.”

Justin smiled ruefully. “Yeah, well, things are going on and I’m feeling kind of shaky.”

“Want to tell me what’s going on? Have you talked to Brian about it?”

Shaking his head, Justin said, “I can’t talk to Brian about it. He’s part of the problem.”

“So talk to me. It’s a safe place and I won’t tell him what you’ve told me.”

Staring at her skeptically, she could see the reluctance play out in the fine features. But then he said, “I saw my ex today.”

“Ethan?”

“I thought Brian always called him the fucking fiddler or Ian,” Justin said. “He’s been on tour and came back a week ago. He didn’t want to reconcile, though.”

“So what did he want?”

“To tell me that he has bone marrow cancer. That it’s in Stage 3 and that he’s on a wait list for a transplant.”

Well, shit, Miranda thought. Isn’t the kid’s life ever easy? “How does that make you feel?”

“Fucking lucky that I have Brian and that he’s okay. That the testicular cancer was caught in stage 1 and that it was someone who knew enough to tell him that there was a problem. I feel bad for Ethan but seeing him today I realized that I no longer love him. That I probably never loved him. That he was just a safe outlet.”

“Did you use him?”

Justin looked down and then met her piercing green eyes. “No,” he blurted out. Then, looking chagrined, admitted, “Maybe. Maybe I did use him because I couldn’t have Brian. Maybe I used him because the words Ethan said were the words I so desperately wanted to hear from Brian. Sex is important to me but I don’t use it as a weapon.”

“Do you think Brian does that?”

“Yeah, sometimes I think he sees his dick as the most powerful weapon he possesses. But it’s him that I fell in love with.”

“Are things going okay between you two?”

“Yeah, things are going okay. He asked me if I wanted him to come with me to see Ethan. I told him no.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Because I didn’t want to put Brian through that. I caused him enough pain when I left him. I don’t want to ever do that again.”

Miranda looked up from her notes and studied the young man seated in front of her. “Justin, do you see yourself walking out on him again? Is what you have with Brian right now enough for you? Or do you need more from him?”

“It would be great if he told me he loved me. No matter how I know he feels I want to hear the words, Doc. But I think Brian would push me away even harder if he actually admitted that was how he felt. I’m happy with where we are but I still feel like we’re standing on shifting sands. I feel restless.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him just how young he was and how wide the age difference between he and Brian was but she remained silent. “That’s part of being twenty-one, Justin. That’s part of youth. It’s hard for anyone to settle down at twenty-one, gay or straight.”

“Brian’s nearly thirty-three,” Justin pointed out. “And he’s nowhere close to settling down.”

“Settling down means different things to different people. Brian may have a different definition of settling down than you do, Justin.”

“Really?”

“You know I can’t talk about it, Justin,” she gently reminded him. “He’s still my primary patient.”

Justin delivered an icy stare. “I don’t want to be his husband, Miranda. I just want to know that our partnership means more than just words. That emotion lies behind it. That it won’t just go up in flames.”

“Nobody can give you that kind of guarantee. It’s not just Brian. That’s life. Do you think he would have filed the DPA and the will without it meaning something to him?”

“I don’t know. That’s the fucking problem. I don’t know if it means something to him or not because he won’t fucking spell it out for me.”

“Why is that so important to you?”

He looked at her like she’d just climbed out of the primordial ooze naked. “Because I love him. Because I nearly fucking died. And because every time Brian and I knock a wall down, he builds another one. How long do I have to endure that?”

“Remember what you said to me in the last session?”

Slowly Justin nodded and she continued to speak. “How you’d protect and defend him. How you loved him. And that there is a connection between you two that defies all odds and logic.”

“Yeah, but—”

Miranda shook her head. “Take him as he is or don’t take him at all. But you can’t fuck with each other’s heads like this. It’s not fair to either one of you.” It sure as hell isn’t fair to him. Brian deserves more.

“I should’ve known you’d defend him. No matter what Brian does or doesn’t do you and Lindsay always fucking defend him.”

Miranda didn’t have an instant rebuttal for that statement. But she’d seen the look in Brian’s eyes a few days ago when he was talking about the young blond. “Is he important to you?”

“Of course,” he burst out. “I love him, Miranda. But how long do I stay in a relationship where I don’t know if the feelings are returned? I feel like a puppet on a string and Brian’s pulling the strings.”

“Where is all this coming from? Why now? What happened?”

Justin took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, before he worked himself into a panic attack. “He had dinner with my mother and she called him her son-in-law. Then my fucking father showed up and lit into Brian about being a child molester and said he’d corrupted both me and Mom.”

“What did Brian do?”

“He told Craig that the next time he came after him it wouldn’t be him who was injured. That I was a fag long before I met Brian. And that wasn’t going to change the fact that Brian was still the one sleeping with me.”

“Okay, sounds like that confrontation between Brian and your dad was a long time in coming. Is that what bothered you or was it how your mom referred to Brian?”

Justin paused and then slowly raised his head, so his eyes focused on Miranda’s. “Brian hates the idea of gay marriage. He thinks it’s fucking ridiculous but he was okay with Mom calling him her son-in-law. He even referred to me as Gus’s other father.”

“Those sound like good things. So what’s bothering you about Brian’s reaction?”

“It doesn’t sound like Brian!” Justin lowered his voice and said, “It doesn’t sound like Brian. For him to even accept the idea of him as my mother’s son-in-law is anathema.”

“Sounds like you have him pigeon-holed. That when Brian acts in a way you’ve always wanted him to act it bothers you. That you say you want him to change and grow up and when he does it scares the shit out of you. How am I doing so far?”

“Okay, Doc Miranda, you’re close but not there yet. I fell in love with Brian when he was a self-centered asshole who lived for only one thing. I broke down his walls. I’m the one who woke up in the middle of the night to find him sitting on the sofa with a bottle of Jim Beam in front of him, agonizing about decisions he was going to have to make. I’m the one who has seen him vulnerable and open. I’ve seen Brian cry because of the shit his mother and sister have pulled. I was there the day his mom found out that he was gay. He used to be Peter Pan and Lindsay was Wendy. But that’s all changed now and it’s totally fucked.”

For the first time, Miranda could see the youth in Justin, and the danger it presented for his continued relationship with Brian. “You’ve always wanted monogamy from him, right?”

“Yeah. I’ve never really needed to go out and fuck strangers. I’ve been content in Brian’s bed.”

“So it’s the fact that Brian’s changing in all the ways you’ve wanted him to since day one that are freaking you out?”

Justin nodded. “Just when I got used to him being one way, he changed.”

“Did you think him incapable of change?”

“This is Brian we’re talking about, Doc. Of course, I didn’t think he could change. He’s never really seen the need to change himself for anyone or anything. He hates change. Actually he hates needless change.”

“But he changed for you. He opened himself up to you and let his guard down. Seems to me like Brian’s trying to be everything you want him to be. And it’s you that isn’t happy.”

Justin couldn’t find a response to that. She’d nailed the problem on the head.

“Do you think it’s possible that learning he had cancer might have shifted some things around for Brian? That his priorities might have changed?”

“But Brian’s Brian,” he protested.

“People aren’t static. Not even Brian. He changed because of you, Justin. He changed because he wanted to be with you. I think the fact that he’s changed scares the fuck out of you because you’re getting what you want and it was easier and safer thinking it would never happen. Because as long as that hope remained just out of reach, you didn’t have to think about the possibility of what would really happen if you did get what you wanted from Brian.”

Miranda set her pen down and stared hard at him. “I can talk to you and Brian but my first priority and loyalty lies with him. You need to find your own counselor, Justin.”

He stared at her, blue eyes confused. Then he understood what she was saying. “You’re saying that I’m the one who’s fucked up. That it’s not Brian who has the problem but me.”

 

Not wanting to agree or disagree, Miranda simply said, “Justin, you’ve got your own issues to deal with. I can’t comment on that but right now you’re the one I’m more concerned about.” She paused and breathed deeply. “Where do you see yourself six months from now? Nine? A year?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I want to get my degree and work on the Rage movie.”

“What about if things really heat up out in Los Angeles and you’re asked to relocate? Would you do that or would you willingly sacrifice that to stay here in Pittsburgh with Brian?”

Justin couldn’t immediately answer and she gave him a knowing look. “So you’d be willing to sacrifice what you have with Brian for the sake of your career.”

“No, I didn’t say that.”

“But you didn’t say that you’d give it up either, Justin.”

Justin’s eyes flashed with a sudden burst of temper. “You know what he told me when Ethan and I were together?”

She shook her head and Justin continued, fury coursing through his own veins, “Ethan was supposed to sign a contract for a music deal. He would be required to present a heterosexual façade to the outside world and deny that he loved me, that he had a partner. I came home one night and found that Ethan had signed the papers. When I asked why he said that there was nothing noble about being poor. It was a direct quote from Brian. So I tracked him down in the backroom of Babylon where he was getting his dick sucked and lit into him. He snarled at me that Ethan shouldn’t give up his career for a piece of blond boy ass. Basically he was telling me that I wasn’t worth it.”

“Did you think he meant it?”

“At the time, yeah. But when things heated up with Stockwell and he began to help me, I realized that he was jeopardizing his own career for the piece of blond boy ass that he’d dismissed so callously. I know what Brian would say. It’s the same thing he told me when I was thinking about going to school out of state and the same thing he said when he was considering taking that job offer in New York: that I shouldn’t sacrifice my career and options for him. That he wouldn’t do the same thing for me. But that I should be willing to sacrifice what he and I have for my own career.”

“Have you talked to Brian about any of this? Have you told him how you’re feeling?”

“No,” he said quietly. Then he glared at her. “If I talk to him, he’s just going to put another wall up and say that he was right to have pushed me away when he found out about the cancer.”

“Was he right?” Asking the hard questions was what she was paid to do, she reminded herself even as she saw the look of pain flash across Justin’s face.

“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.” The look of pain was not fake. It was entirely too real and agonizing for it to be artificial.

It was on the tip of Miranda’s tongue to make an acidic comment then she thought of her ethics class and professional training. But she tossed those aside for the moment. “You better find out, Justin, or you’re going to hurt him again. Do you want that?”

“That’s harsh,” Justin said, stunned by her attitude and the fact that her professionalism was fractured.

“I told you I’m not a typical shrink. I don’t sugarcoat things with my patients or my patient’s lovers. Justin, you knew going into this thing with Brian, that things wouldn’t be easy. Loving Brian isn’t easy but you’ve got to work through it. If you think you’re done, have the balls to talk to him about it. He’s not the only one who pushes people off cliffs, you know.” She took a deep breath and then continued, “You can only push him too far before Brian reaches his breaking point, Justin. You owe him this.”

The pointed reminder about how he’d walked out on Brian once before wasn’t lost on Justin but he was still shocked by Miranda’s response. She flipped through her Rolodex and put a card on the edge of her desk. “Here,” she said, “it’s Lara Connelly’s number. She’s a great therapist and I think she might be able to help. I need to talk to Brian for a moment.”

“You gonna tell him what I said?” Justin asked, suddenly afraid of what she’d do. Knowledge was power, after all.

“No, privilege still applies. I’m still bound by the Hippocratic Oath, Justin, and I promise to do no harm. I stand by my word. I just need to speak to him a moment.”

Justin stood and took the business card before walking out into the waiting room. Brian was flipping through a magazine and looking utterly bored but he looked up when he saw his lover. “Um,” Justin began and then forced the words out, “she wants to talk to you.”

Brian raised his eyebrows but Justin wouldn’t say more. He walked into her office and closed the door behind him. “What’s up?”

Without preamble, Miranda said, “You love him, right?”

“We’ve been over this—”Brian began.

But she shook her head and said, “Kinney, don’t fuck with me on this. Do you love him?”

Slowly he nodded and met her green eyes which were flashing dangerously at him. Deciding to forego his usual bullshit, he said, “Yeah, I guess I do. I don’t want to but I fucking love him.”

She sighed and said, “Sooner rather than later you’re going to have to admit that to him.”

“What are you saying? You know I can’t tell him that, Miranda.”

“I’ve already stepped over the line, Brian. Just think about what I said.”

Brian let her words sink in and then an anguished expression crossed his face. He met her eyes again and nearly whispered, “I’m going to lose him again, aren’t I?”

It took everything in her power not to go to him and comfort him but she knew Brian would push her away. This was a question she couldn’t answer and she wished more than anything that she could do something to alleviate the pain Brian felt. When Brian finally looked up, his eyes focused on the Ansel Adams print on the wall. “This is why I didn’t want him to fucking come back. I’m too fucking old for this shit. I love him, Miranda, and he broke my heart. I can’t deal with him leaving again. For any reason.”

Miranda stepped closer to him and said, “Brian, don’t do this to yourself. He loves you. Despite everything, he loves you. You need to trust that if you say the words he’ll stay.”

“I can’t,” Brian admitted. He was reminded of the night he’d ended up at Woody’s and how Debbie had reminded him that somehow Justin had crept in under the wire and wormed his way into his heart. “I can’t tell him.”

“You have too, Bri. I know that you believe the words are bullshit and cause nothing but pain but you have to trust him.”

Brian looked at her and smiled ruefully. “I should have fucking kicked him out again. I should have made it clear that the door was firmly closed. I can’t fucking believe this.” He took a deep breath and then let it out, saying, “He knows about Sabrina, Miranda. I fucking told him about my daughter. Michael doesn’t even know about her and he doesn’t believe that I fucking love him. That’s utter bullshit.”

Unable to do more for one of her oldest friends, she said, “I don’t know what to say, Brian. But you need to tell him. And soon.”

Brian stood and opened the door. He heard Miranda’s voice from behind him and saw Justin sitting in front of him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Brian,” Justin said softly and Brian couldn’t even meet his eyes.

“Let’s go home,” he said, turning back to face Miranda. “I’ll send you a check.”

Mute, she simply nodded. 

Once they returned to the loft, Brian sank down on the futon mattress and looked at Justin. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay, pretend that this is a different situation. That we do things differently, that we’re completely open and honest with each other. Drop the bullshit and tell me what’s bothering you. Please.” 

It was the last pleading note in Brian’s voice that caused Justin to pause. “No apologies? No regrets?”

Brian simply nodded. “I need you to tell me what’s going on.”

“You sure you want to hear this?” Justin asked as he sank down next to his partner.

Shaking his head, Brian looked at Justin. “Communication.”

Understanding completely what Brian meant Justin began to talk. Brian sat there and listened, feeling like his world was changing again. But he was willing to listen and not run or send him away. 

"Justin," Brian began and then looked at the younger man. "I know that I hate doing the talking thing but we need to do it."

Meeting Brian's eyes, Justin knew he was sincere but yet he still hesitated. This could go so fucking wrong, he thought. "I just feel restless. Like things are changing around me and with us and I'm unsure of myself."

Struggling not to get angry but feeling as if he'd been hit again, Brian spoke quietly. It occurred to him that when he'd woken up he'd felt like the image he had of Justin was shimmering, going in and out of focus. It never dawned on him that Justin might be feeling the same way but about him. "You've always been the most mature person in my life," Brian reminded him. "And you have this annoying tendency to call me on my shit so talk."

Justin looked down at the mattress, obviously avoiding Brian's eyes. "I guess I was upset when you came home from dinner with Mom and acted so nonchalant about her referring to you as her son-in-law." He glanced at his partner, saw the stony expression on Brian's face, and forced himself to forge ahead heedless of the outcome. "And I was so proud of you for standing up to my shit-bag of a father."

"I thought you always wanted me to get along with your mom, Sunshine. Hell, I call her Mother Taylor."

Justin cracked a slight smile. "But it's always been in jest, Brian. Kind of like when you call me honey. I know you're playing with me and it's okay. It's just different when it's my mom."

Brian bit his lip and suddenly stood. He crossed to the clerestory windows and looked out at the street before turning back. "My mother is a fucking bitch, Justin. She persistently says I'm going to go to hell. I don't even want her to know that I have cancer. Hell, I didn't even want Claire to know and the only reason she found out is because she works in pediatric oncology. Your mother has never said that she wished you were going to hell or that either of us were. When I first met her, she said that at least she knew that you'd be safe with me. And when you got hurt, Jennifer pushed me away for your benefit but then came to me when she knew that she wasn't going to be able to handle it. I've never foisted my family on you because I hate them but your mother is different. I know now that she's got my back and that she'll kill me if things get bad between us. But your mother is there. She's been there for both of us. I don't know many other mothers who would show their son's lover a gay bathhouse as possible office space. Fuck, Justin. I like your mom. More importantly I respect Jennifer. I know where you got your heart from and your tenacity and even your balls."

Justin looked up at him. "I-"he began again. "I just never thought you'd ever accept the idea of you being a son-in-law to my mother. I thought you were happy being on the periphery of things."

"Would you have been happy if I'd kept you outside my circle of friends, Sunshine?" Brian stared hard at him.

It was a few moments before Justin began to answer. "No," he admitted, "I suppose I would've been hurt. And angry." Even though I can do without Michael at times.

"Just because I've lived this solitary life doesn't mean that I was happy, Justin. I needed them because I was foundering." Brian stopped; he could have said more but now wasn't the time. "So keep talking. What else is bothering you?"

"I don't know. It seems like bullshit now. Just a bunch of inconsequential stuff that I built up in my head. Brian, I'm sorry."

"Sorry's bullshit."

Justin smiled at him, though the smile wasn't as radiant as it could have been. "No more talking," he said.

Brian started to agree immediately but then something in the words stopped him. His eyes narrowed as he stared at his lover. "When we got back together I told you that I didn't need anything from you except honesty. Well, I need to amend that."

Justin's blue eyes grew wide as he listened. "If you're unsure of yourself or us, I need you to talk to me. I know I can be impenetrable, don't laugh. But I'd rather us talk it out than end up hiding what's really going on."

"Like you did with the cancer?" Justin pointed out and watched temper flare in Brian's eyes.

It was on the tip of Brian's tongue to retort acidly then he decided it wouldn't do anyone good. "Yeah."

Brian stepped towards him and Justin met him halfway as they hugged each other, the embrace growing tighter. Feeling rather smothered, Justin tilted his head up without bucking Brian's chin and said, "I love you."

"I know you do, baby," Brian said, feeling the words come easier. 

"Seriously Brian, why are you suddenly calling me baby?" Justin asked.

"Fuck if I know. Somehow it just seems right to say it now."

"And earlier?"

"Well, you're not always merry Sunshine and Sonny Boy doesn't always convey the emotion I'm trying to express. So that leaves our options rather limited. I don't like calling you J because Daphne does that. Besides, it kind of rolls off the tongue."

"So it's not you infantilizing me?"

Brian looked disgusted. "Fuck. I won't ever say it again."

"That's not what I meant," Justin said, hastening to back up and rectify what he'd said. "I know you don't think of me as a baby. I'm sorry, Brian."

"Okay. So I should probably go into the office and check on Cynthia and Theodore."

Justin looked kind of hurt as he said, "I thought you'd take the rest of the afternoon off."

"Well, I'd like to stay here but my business doesn't run itself. And I've taken too much time off as it is. People are beginning to wonder about me and the way I run my business." He looked at Justin and said, "You understand, don't you?"

Slowly Justin nodded. "Yeah, I understand. How `bout I fix you dinner when you get home?"

A slow smile crossed Brian's face as he said, "Maybe dinner will be forgotten."

"Promises, promises," Justin said, this time with a true Sunshine-y smile. "Anything in particular?"

"Surprise me," Brian said. "Seriously I should really go check in. What time is it anyway?"

"Nearly 4:00," Justin said, glancing at his own watch.

 

Brian groaned. "Never mind. If I go in now it's kind of pointless. They've been on their own since earlier anyway."

"You know, Daddy," Justin quipped, "the children are perfectly capable of watching themselves. They don't need you to monitor them."

Startled by Justin's comment, Brian looked at him and said, "Don't call me that."

"What, Daddy?" Justin asked, with an innocent expression on his face. Then he saw the expression on Brian's face. "Brian?"

"Just don't call me that, Justin," Brian's voice was nearly strangled.

"What's wrong?"

Without answering, Brian crossed the room and sank down on the bedroom, head in his hands. Waiting for a moment in abject shock, Justin soon followed him, not fully comprehending the depth of Brian's response or the emotion that lay behind it. "Brian."

The look of pain and hurt on Brian's face nearly broke his heart. He couldn't understand why him calling him that would cause such a reaction; after all, Brian didn't mind when Gus called him Daddy. In fact, Brian would light up. So what was this all about?

Brian was fully aware of Justin's presence and also knew that he'd freaked the younger man out to a certain extent. But dammit, he hadn't fucking listened to him. Maybe now he would. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Bri?" 

He hated the questioning note in Justin's voice but he refused to bend. This was just something he refused to talk about. Absolutely fucking not going to talk about it. Doesn't matter what he does, Brian thought. I'm not going to talk about why I lost my shit over this. But then he looked up and saw the compassion in the blue eyes and knew he was lost. Damn, it would have been so good if I hadn't looked up, he thought, knowing that he was screwed.

"Not now." Brian paused. "Justin, just don't call me Daddy."

"You want to explain why that shook you up so bad?"

Brian slowly shook his head. "Not right now. No. Stop asking. Just let it alone."

Even though he wanted to find out what had provoked that kind of reaction in Brian, Justin cared enough about him not to push. Brian lay down on the bed and Justin lay down on his side of the bed, far enough away that both were achingly aware of the distance between them. Surprisingly it was Brian who bent first. "I know you want to know. But I can't tell you right now."

"You freaked me out," Justin admitted.

"You?" Brian teased, reminded of the conversation they'd had so long ago.

 

This time though neither of them were smiling. Justin closed his eyes and listened to the sound of Brian's rhythmic breathing next to him. But he didn't fall asleep and he knew that Brian wasn't sleeping either. Unconsciously he slid over on the bed closer to Brian, hoping that Brian would acknowledge the movement in some small way.

Brian lifted his arm and wrapped it around Justin, pulling him closer. Speaking quietly, he said, "It's okay, baby."


	23. Acknowledging Fears

“Wake up, Sunshine,” Brian said. His dozing partner didn’t move. Christ, he could sleep through a fucking earthquake, he thought, torn between amusement, envy, and frustration. Frustration seemed to be the emotion that was winning out. “Justin, wake the fuck up,” he said, in a louder voice, prodding the younger man with a finger.

Slowly, Justin opened his eyes, taking a few seconds to allow his eyes to focus on Brian’s face, which he noticed with trepidation was suffused with something perilously close to anger. “What’s wrong?”

Good fucking question. It took effort for him not to lash out at Justin. After all, he’s the one who woke him up. “You’re changing. I’m changing. And it’s not just because of the fucking cancer. Want to tell me exactly what you and Miranda talked about?”

Justin hesitated. On the one hand, the session between him and Miranda was private; on the other, Brian was paying for it. “I guess I’m just scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“I don’t know,” Justin said, in a small voice that reminded Brian of the days when Ethan had been in the picture. And that just wasn’t tolerable.

Brian stood and towered over Justin. “That’s bullshit. I haven’t asked you for much since we got back together. Honesty and for you to tell me when you’re freaking out about something.”

“Et tu brute.”

“Fuck you, Justin,” Brian bit out. “I had a right to freak out about the cancer thing. It was my balls after all. And we’re not fucking married.”

Justin gave him a considering look and then sat up. “Have I said that I wanted that from you? That I wanted that degree of commitment from you? When is the last time I even suggested such a thing?”

Brian looked away and Justin bit down on his lower lip. Answer me. Answer the fucking question, Brian. When Brian looked back at him, there was an unreadable expression on his face. “What do you want?”

Sighing, Justin stood and walked over to the upright dresser. Opening a drawer, he withdrew the small jewelry box. He lifted the lid and withdrew the pendant Brian had given him the night they’d reconciled. He wondered if Brian remembered that night with the sort of clarity he did. For he assigned more importance to seemingly mundane things than Brian did. He met Brian’s eyes and saw something akin to fear in the older man’s eyes. “Put it on me.”

“No,” Brian said, turning away and walking down into the living room. He went directly to the drink cart and picked up the new bottle of Beam. He really didn’t understand what had crawled up his ass and died but he knew that he was incredibly pissed at Justin. And he knew it came out of the blue. The emotional shit usually did and it hit him with the force of a Level 6 tropical storm. His fight or flee mechanism was kicking in and usually he’d just hit the baths and that wasn’t an option. He didn’t want to fight with Justin but at times the blond just pissed the fuck out of him. So he uncapped the bottle of Beam and took a healthy swallow, knowing that Justin was staring at him with that disapproving expression on his face.

Justin sat on the top step looking at his brooding lover. What the fuck is up with him? All this because I inadvertently and unintentionally called him Daddy. Brian’s moods were not foreign to him but he never dealt with them well. Ironically, the only people who did seem to deal with Brian’s moods well were Lindsay and Michael. And fuck if I’m going to call them, Justin thought. After all, if I can’t handle Brian now, what chance at a future do we really have?

He looked down at the cowry shell pendant he still held as gingerly as if it were a baby bird and wondered just why Brian had bought it for him. The other man had never told him after he’d dropped the bombshell about them being partners way back when and Justin hadn’t pressed. But now he wanted to know with a desperation that bordered on pain. So he bit down on his own instinct to get away from Brian and walked down to meet him. He could see the pain in the dark eyes and wondered just what nerve he’d hit by the words. God knew he hadn’t tried to piss Brian off but somehow he just did. “Brian,” he said, softly, “please talk to me.”

“No.”

Okay, so he’s not going to make this easy on me. But I’m the one who opened this little can of worms so it’s up to me to fix this. “I know you’re changing and that scares me. It scares me because I got used to you being one way and now it’s like your whole ideology is shifting on its axis.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to change. So fucking deal with it,” Brian said, taking another healthy swallow and avoiding Justin’s eyes. I don’t know who the fuck I am anymore, he thought desperately. What scared him more was that he was suddenly seeing shadows around Justin, like the image was an out-of-focus picture.

Okay, I deserve that. It didn’t make the words sting any less knowing that he deserved them. And any time Brian waged a full assault on him was painful. The man was a master at emotional warfare even when he didn’t intend to do so. And just because his emotions didn’t often manifest outwardly, Brian still had them. “Is it because I called you Daddy? Brian, I’m sorry. It just came out. I don’t really think of you as a paternal figure.”

At that Brian turned to him and set the bottle down with a clatter. “The hell you don’t. I’m the one who saved you from your homophobic prick of a father. I’m the one who taught you everything you know about being the best homosexual possible. I taught you the joys of rimming and what it means to be the best little bottom possible. So yeah, I’ve been a paternal figure of sorts. And that just creeps me the fuck out.”

“Okay. I thought we dealt with the age shit a long time ago. You’re always going to be older than me. And I’m always going to be the twink in the community’s eyes but I didn’t think that mattered to you.”

“Neither did I,” Brian said, sadly. “I even call you Sonny Boy. Everybody talks about how I had two sons the night Gus was born. Do you know how that feels? No, I’m not old enough to be your father but in terms of experiences I might as well have been. You don’t understand what it’s like to experience all that I’ve taught you on your own without anyone to guide you or to keep you safe or to tell you what’s a dangerous situation. All the shit I’ve gone through is enough for someone your mother’s age. Do you know I had a fucking ulcer at the age of 10?”

Justin startled at the words. He’d known Brian’s home life had been bad but he didn’t think he really wanted to know just how bad. And suddenly something that had always lingered at the periphery of his thoughts was voiced. “What happened to you in that locker room, Brian?” It was something he’d always wondered and never asked for fear of his lover’s reaction. God knew that Brian was never predictable.

“Don’t want to talk about it,” Brian said, voice cold. He picked up a glass and poured a healthy amount of Beam into it before taking a sip. “Don’t push.” He really didn’t want to talk about it. Hell, he’d only ever given Michael the glorified version of events because he knew Michael couldn’t handle the darker realism of what had really happened. He knew Justin was stronger and tougher but he still didn’t think his lover could handle it.

Withdrawing, Justin returned upstairs and retrieved a t-shirt. “If you don’t want to talk about it,” Justin said, from the top of the stairs, “that’s okay. But don’t shut me out entirely.”

Slowly Brian nodded. He picked up the bottle of Beam and carrying it and the glass returned upstairs. He sat down on the side of the bed and looked down at his hands. “I told you that first night that he loved it. That I went into the shower fully clothed and sucked him off.” Brian could still smell the scent of the Lever 2000 soap he’d used and the faint acidity. “But that isn’t the whole truth.”

Justin remained silent. If Brian was going to do this, he had to do it in his own way, without any prodding from him. “He grabbed the back of my head, forcing me to deep throat him, and I gagged. He laughed at me, at my naiveté. I knew less than you, Justin. That first night, you at least knew more about fellatio than I did at fifteen. But you quickly mastered the technique and how to stave off my orgasm until we were both ready. Once you did, you became accomplished at it.”

That was one of the highest forms of praise he’d ever heard from Brian even if it was in a backhanded manner. But he still didn’t respond and Brian sent him a glance that he couldn’t quite read. “He fucked my mouth without any regard and I realized that I really didn’t know what I’d walked into. When he began to shoot, he pulled out and came over my face and lips. And then he laughed again, calling me his little cum boy and his bitch. He asked me if I wanted to know how to take it. At that point I was scared shitless but I was turned on despite everything. My dick was hard as a rock and he knew it. The bastard fucking knew that I wanted it even though emotionally I wanted to run.”

Justin realized that things could have been a whole lot worse his first time if he hadn’t found someone like Brian. Brian, at least, had taken the time to prepare him and hadn’t done anything he hadn’t wanted him to do. And they’d talked and taken their time. Brian had guided him through nearly everything and he’d wanted nothing more at the end than to reciprocate on Brian. So he could hardly imagine just how terrified the young Brian must have been. All the emotions and physical reactions he was having must have scared him to death even as he was turned on. 

“What happened?”

“Sure you want to know?”

Well, hell no, he didn’t but he knew that he was getting a rare glimpse into Brian’s past. The past that Michael saw through rose-colored glasses. This was Brian through a glass darkly and Justin could accept that. So he nodded slightly. Brian chuckled slightly, the sound dark and nearly evil. Well, sonny boy wants to know so I might as well tell him, Brian thought. But I need a fucking cigarette for this. What he really wanted was to get so high that he’d never come down. It didn’t occur to him that his depression was kicking in and the black moods that he always carefully kept Justin away from were becoming patently apparent to his partner.

So he slid off the bed and retrieved the pack of cigarettes from his night table. “My chinos were soaking wet, and the head of my dick was just barely visible. He pulled me roughly towards him and roughly pulled down my pants and briefs in a move that was hardly practiced. There was no finesse, no passion, just a show of power. He admired my cock and then spat upon two of his fingers. He turned me around and shoved me up against the shower wall.” Brian’s voice progressively got lower as he began to remember the story with more clarity. “He shoved two fingers up my hole, roughly scissoring them back and forth, to open me up. Then I felt his cock ram into me. There was no intent for him to bring me off. I was purely a receptacle for his pleasure. When he came, he pulled out and told me to come back every afternoon after soccer practice.”

“Brian,” Justin said, horrified by the story.

“My dick was still hard and so I jerked myself off. Then I took a shower. I’d never felt so used in my life. Not even when Pop would use his belt on me or the cat. Pop was drunk most of the time but he still knew how to deliver a blow. I can still hear the belt singing through the air before it made contact. I took the long way home, my ass still burning, and ended up at home. Pop wasn’t home yet from the union and Mom was in the kitchen cooking. I think Claire was at a friend’s house. Anyway, I took another long hot shower, scrubbing every inch of my body. Yeah, I knew I wanted dick but I hadn’t taken into account the ramifications of my action. And I couldn’t tell anyone.”

“What about Debbie?”

Brian sent him an incredulous glance. “Debbie had her own shit going on and I told Mikey a completely different version of what happened.”

“Brian, you were raped,” Justin said, his own voice nearly a whisper. He couldn’t imagine what that had felt like. 

“No, I wasn’t. I was a stupid kid who got exactly what he wanted, just not the way he thought it would happen. I went into that shower knowing that I was going to get fucked.”

“It was rape,” Justin insisted.

“No, it fucking wasn’t,” Brian hissed. “Don’t fucking say that to me. I was not raped. And if you breathe a word of this I’ll never speak to you again.”

This time Justin did not think it was an idle threat. He simply nodded. “What happened after that, Brian?”

“Haven’t had enough? Still want the gory details?” Brian taunted, vitriol clear in his words. Christ, wasn’t that enough?

“No,” Justin said. He had had enough for one day. Too much emotional shit and they were both wracked with it. 

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Be careful what you wish for, sonny boy,” he said, voice harsh. Cause you just might get it, he added silently.

Take him as he is or let him go, Justin thought, remembering Miranda’s words in the session earlier that day. Take him as he is, reverberated in his head. He knew that meant taking the darkness and morbidity of Brian’s thoughts along with the intense sexuality. He loved Brian, truly he did, but sometimes he wondered if Brian’s darkness was why he was drawn to him. Cause everyone knew that Brian was hardly ever sweetness and light but few saw the true darkness. Justin moved closer to him and felt the bed shift as Brian moved away. Well, fuck me, he thought. “Don’t,” Brian said. “No more talking.”

For the first time, Justin understood just why he and Brian didn’t do the talking thing that often. It hurt too much. “Remember the day we found Jason Kemp in the dumpster behind the diner?”

Brian nodded, wondering where Justin was going with this line of thought. “Yeah, we came back here and you totally wigged out on me.”

Justin didn’t remember it quite that way but he wasn’t going to argue with the man. So if he thought that was wigging out he could have that. “Remember when you were choking me?”

“Yeah, you got hard. And I fucked the shit out of you. You liked it, liked succumbing to the power I have over you.”

Okay, nobody ever said Brian didn’t have a healthy ego or a strong dose of narcissism and arrogance, but even for him that was over the top. “I think I understand better now why you have to have that sense of control. Why you always have to be the one on top.”

There was more to his need to top than just control issues but he wasn’t willing to go into them now, and he admitted to himself that he might never be ready to tell Justin everything. He didn’t want to remember so why in the hell would he want to share those thoughts with his lover. Justin still had an idealized view of him even though he saw the real Brian more often than any other person. “I like being on top. I like taking you to the brink and hearing you beg me to take you over the cliff.”

“You want to punish me sometimes, don’t you?”

“Where are you going with this, Sunshine?”

Justin took a deep breath and said, “The night we fought when I wanted to fuck you, I got hot, watching you go to the breaking point. When you hit me back, I felt something.”

Brian stared at him, eyes unreadable. Surely he’s not going where I think he’s going with this. I’m not my father. Dammit, I am not Jack Kinney. “You felt me lose control and do something to you that I swore I’d never do. And it’s not because you haven’t pushed me to that point before. You have, Justin. When things went down with Ethan, I wanted to hit you. I wanted to punish you for betraying me.” But I walked away.

“So why didn’t you?” Justin asked, voice trembling a bit. He knew he was going over the edge but he didn’t care. 

It was Brian’s turn to sigh. “I don’t like hurting you. And the choking thing was because I was trying to show you just how bad it can be to trust someone blindly. I didn’t hit you that night because I knew that I’d just be pushing you out the door that much faster.” Into the fiddler’s open, waiting arms. Justin had gone anyway so his plan had backfired.

“How do you know that?”

Brian lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply before responding to the question. He turned to Justin and said, “Because you don’t like it when I hurt you. You were turned on but you were also terrified. Do you think I’ve forgotten the look in your eyes when I did that? Just a slight variation in where I placed my thumbs and you could’ve gone into the ground.”

“You wouldn’t have done that.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Justin stared at him and then shook his head. “Because that’s not the type of man you are.”

Brian laughed shortly. “You think you’ve seen my dark side, Justin. Yeah, I’m changing but that doesn’t mean that either one of us are going to like those changes. And I meant what I said about the will and the DPA and the money. I’ve even got you down as my medical power of attorney in case something should happen to send me to the hospital. Maybe, just maybe, I’m growing up.”

“And me?” he asked.

“Sonny boy, I don’t know.”

Justin had always thought that Brian was the perennial Peter Pan; the boy who always wants to live in Neverland. Now he saw his lover as a man who was changing because he’d seen his mortality challenged. That was enough to change anyone. The question now was whether or not Justin loved him enough to face the darkness of Brian’s heart and stay on the path, or diverge from the path he’d wanted from the first night he’d met him. But those issues were not going to be resolved tonight. The question now was whether he was strong enough to face the darkness that lay ahead. And he just didn’t know. The fact that he didn’t know scared the shit out of him.

They sat there in silence for long moments before Brian moved. He had grown weary of the silence and increasingly remorseful for his bad temper so he stood and walked down to his desk. He picked up the phone and dialed a number. “Hey, it’s me. I need you. Come to the loft. The code is 7183.”

Justin heard the words and understood the significance of Brian’s code, the years of each of their births. 

Brian waited a moment and then said, “Later.” He hung up and saw Justin at the top of the stairs, looking like a puppy who’d just peed on the rug and was waiting to be kicked. He couldn’t stand the guilt and he was tired of fighting. This was why he didn’t talk. Fuck.

“Michael?”

Of course he’d think that. Debating whether or not to let his partner squirm like a fish caught on a hook, he finally just shook his head. Not worth the drama. Enough for a lifetime, he thought. “Miranda,” he finally answered.

Justin raised an eyebrow. Whatever he’d been expecting it wasn’t that. “She makes house calls now?”

“Don’t start,” Brian warned, his temper fraying. Let it alone. Just let it alone. He was going to owe her big. She’d sounded pissed at the interruption.

“You know why you’re pissed off?”

He shrugged. He was suddenly sure that Justin was going to tell him. “Because you can’t fuck me into complacency. We’re talking when you’d rather get high or fuck someone else.”

Well, he agreed with the first and last part of that statement. “Right now I don’t want to fuck you,” he snapped. “I want to hit you for being a twat. We’re in deep shit trouble here, Justin.” Anytime I feel like hitting someone or something I know it’s bad. And that’s why I called for reinforcements.

Justin walked down the stairs, his blue eyes wide. He felt fear and he’d never been afraid of Brian, not even when he was choking him. He’d always had the trust and that outweighed the uncertainty. So he knew this was bad; they were approaching a dark place.

Before he could respond, the buzzer sounded and Brian crossed to the door to open it. “Did you call her as your friend or our therapist?”

“Does it matter?”

It kind of did but Justin only shook his head. He was silent until he heard the elevator car arrive at their floor and Miranda step out. They needed her help because he really didn’t like the place they were going. And he really didn’t want to go to the point of no return. “Kinney,” she began then took a good look at him and stopped cold. “What’s wrong?” Because it was patently obvious that there was something very, very wrong.

“Ask the drama princess.”

She directed her gaze at Justin and saw him flinch in obvious discomfort. “I left a lover in my bed to come see you two. So tell me what the fuck is going on. Now.”

Well, Justin thought, I can see how she and Brian are friends. She takes no prisoners and that was something he would have said. In exactly that tone of voice, he realized.

“I called him Daddy.”

Oh shit. “Brian?”

“I told him part of the real story about the coach.”

“The rape?” She asked, unprepared for the heated glare Brian directed at her.

Mindful of his earlier warning, Justin did not concur with her assessment. He avoided looking at Brian, not wanting to see the man’s expression. “I wasn’t raped,” Brian bit out.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say yes, you were, but she knew that would go over like a lead balloon. Brian’s eyes were a dark grey and she could see the anger in his carriage and mien. He was like a powder keg, primed and ready to blow. And she knew that Justin wouldn’t be able to avoid the shrapnel. “So you told him part of the story, Brian. That’s good.”

“No, it’s not. He wigged out.”

How the hell did you expect him to react, Kinney? He loves you. We all do. “And?”

“Then we started talking about violence and a whole bunch of other shit.”

“How are you feeling Brian?”

“Pissed off, hurt, and trying my damndest not to get physical.”

Not good. Not good at all. She turned her attention to Justin and said, “Justin, do you have someplace to stay tonight?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Pack a bag and go.”

“But—” he began, then saw Miranda’s expression. She was deadly serious. “Okay.”

He disappeared up the stairs into the bedroom and emerged a few minutes later with a duffel bag and his messenger bag. He was torn between going and staying; after all, it was his questions that had brought Brian to this point. He met Miranda’s eyes and she nodded silently. But he said nothing to Brian as he left, seeing the hooded expression in his eyes that worried him.

When the door slid closed behind Justin, she moved towards Brian. “Brian,” she said, stopping when she saw his eyes darken a fraction.

“Is he gone?”

She nodded, realizing just how dangerous the path she trod upon was. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Not really,” he said, going to his bedroom and returning to her with a silver case.

“What’s in that?” she asked, cold with fear even as she voiced the question. She really didn’t want to know.

Rather than answering her, he simply handed her the case then went to stand in front of the windows, his back to her. Lighting a cigarette, he thought about how quickly things had gone to shit between him and Justin. Lately, it seemed that his temper always quick, had become a hair-trigger. Fuck, this wasn’t what he’d wanted.

Miranda opened the case, her blood pounding in her ears. Shit. Inside, were carefully sharpened tiny blades. She looked at Brian and saw him rubbing the fine scar on the inside of his wrist, almost absentmindedly. She remembered when he’d gotten that scar and why.

“Suicide?” she asked, voice faint. She’d known that she was right to be concerned even as she’d let him walk out of her office that last session. Why would he do this? Why now? This wasn’t just about the cancer anymore. Something was really bothering him and she felt sure the young blond had something if not everything to do with it. “Brian?”

He turned back to her, face dark and said, “I think he wants me to hurt him. When things are good, one of us always finds a way to fuck it up. Usually it’s me. When he called me Daddy, I went cold, Miranda. Like I’d gone naked into a snowdrift. He pissed me off.”

“Why’d you tell him about the coach? Why now? I’d think dealing with the cancer would be enough for the two of you.” They’d deal with the violence issue later. That, in itself, scared her. The one thing Brian did not want was to be his father. He’d worked too hard to distinguish himself from Jack to have Justin bring it out in him now. 

“Because he asked. Every time I tell him about my childhood or my past it tears him up. And I shut down cold on him.”

“Self preservation.”

Brian nodded. “Yeah. He’s the only person besides you who knows the truth about the most famous shower scene since Psycho.”

His tentative joke didn’t have the desired effect. Miranda didn’t even crack a smile. “Michael?”

“Michael couldn’t handle it.” He had thought Justin could; he saw now he’d been wrong.

She could believe that. She’d never really liked Michael and the feeling was mutual. But she knew it was significant that he’d called her and not Michael. He’d needed her. “Why’d you call me? And not Lindsay? Or Michael?”

“Lindz is dealing with her own shit. And I don’t want to tear Michael away from his hubby.” He spoke wryly and then avoided her eyes as he searched for the right words to answer her real question. “Right now, you’re the only thing standing between me and those blades. It was good you sent him away. Don’t want him to clean up my mess. Don’t want to put him through that.” 

Damn. Damn. Triple damn with a fucking on top. “He loves you. Desperately and deeply. Everything is going right.”

“The fuck it is. I’m a one-balled wonder who can’t fuck his partner. Everything’s fucked up.”

“Don’t throw him away, Brian. Don’t toss this chance aside.” She was practically pleading with him now.

“Why do you care?” he asked, the plaintive note in his voice rendering her soul.

She repressed a sigh. The man was intensely frustrating. “Because,” she said patiently as if she were talking to a child or mentally challenged person, “I have never seen you this happy. You two have a chance, Brian. Don’t fuck it up. And I think you need him.”

“Why are you blaming me? He’s the one who pushed this. I didn’t start this fight and lately it seems that all he and I do is fight.”

“But you’ll finish it, Bri. It’s not his fault that he wants more. That’s only reasonable for someone in a relationship. And I don’t believe he really wants you to hurt him. I think he was trying to make a point. It bothers him too much to see you hurting. And he was deeply upset by the fact that he’d hit you.”

Putting his head in his hands, he said, “I really blew this one, huh? So how do I fix it?”

“Eat a little crow. Apologize for having a drama queen moment.”

“I’m not a drama queen,” he protested. Then he said, “This totally sucks.”

She couldn’t help smiling. He sounded like a little boy. “And not in a positive, life-affirming way. As to that, Brian, it’ll just take time. And he’s willing to wait. He’s remarkably patient.” Then her tone turned more somber as she said, “The blades, Brian?”

It was the last thing either of them wanted to talk about. She knew that he’d had episodic depressions that were dark and took him to places he didn’t want to go. She also knew that he was going through the five stages of dying even though the cancer was gone. 

“I’ll be okay, Doc. Scout’s honor,” he said, the familiar smirk curving his lips.

“You were never a scout, Brian. The scoutmaster wouldn’t have had a chance against your powers of persuasion. I’m taking the blades. You got anything else?”

“No.”

His answer was a little too quick and a little too pat for her comfort but she wasn’t going to press it. “Brian.”

“Seriously, Miranda, I’m okay. Drama queen moment over. Now go home to your lover. How old is he this time?”

She glared at him. “Twenty-five. Asshole.” Secretly she was relieved. If he could give her shit about the age of her latest lover, he was feeling better. Still she hesitated. She didn’t like leaving him alone. “Brian, I love you.”

“Love you too, kid. Now go home and have hot breeder sex.”

“He’s really good with his tongue,” she said, quietly and saw Brian pale.

“Don’t want to hear about it.”

She laughed and then left. After he closed the door behind her, he picked up the phone and dialed the apartment.

“Hello,” Daphne said.

Hell, he thought. Daphne was tougher to get past than the hounds that guarded the entrance to the Underworld in the Celtic or Greek myths. From the chill in her voice, he doubted his usual charm would work on her.

“It’s Brian.”

“No shit,” she said. 

“Can I talk to Justin?”

“No.”

“C’mon, Daph, I know I fucked up. It’s important. Is he there?” Great, he thought, now I’m reduced to pleading to speak to my own lover. How fucked up is this?

He heard her sigh and then hand the phone over to his pissed off and hurt lover. He could practically see the pout on Justin’s face and the hurt in the blue eyes. “Hello.”

“I’m sorry.” Great, I didn’t stumble over the words. Step 1 accomplished.

“Sorry’s bullshit. What do you want?”

Okay, he’s not going to make this easy, Brian realized. “I really hate it when you use my own words against me.” He could practically hear the sigh coming. Time to try a different tactic. “I had a drama queen moment. I really am sorry.”

Now he could hear sniffling and felt like an even bigger shit. He hated it when he was the cause of Justin’s tears. It made him feel so low. “Allergies?”

“Uh huh,” Justin said, hesitating for a moment. “We’ll be okay, Brian. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“I get the psychoanalysis from Miranda. I don’t need it from my partner too.”

Through his tears, Justin smiled at the words. “Sorry.”

“I hate this, you know,” Brian said, returning to the bedroom and lying down on the bed. 

“This, what?”

“Making up over the phone without hot sex or hot phone sex being involved.” He went quiet and Justin listened to the steady sound of his breathing.

“Brian?”

“Yeah, Sunshine.”

“Want to come over?”

Brian smiled. He did but he also knew that they probably needed this time apart. Ever since Justin had come over with the chicken soup, they’d been practically inseparable. It was enough to make anyone a little tense. “No, I think we need a night apart. Do kid stuff with Daphne. Smoke some weed and get drunk. Watch cartoons. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Justin couldn’t help but smile at the fondness the words conveyed. “Later.”

“Later.”

Brian stood and disrobed and then padded naked into the bathroom to engage in his nighttime routine. When he was through, he crawled into bed. He found himself unable to sleep. Not an unusual predicament for him. Still he found himself moving into Justin’s side of the bed, cradling his pillow because it smelled like him. As he finally drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t help wishing that the man lay beside him as well.


	24. Acknowledging Fears

When Brian arrived at the office the next morning, Cynthia appeared with a cup of coffee and a tentative expression on her face. Used to his frequent ill temper and mood swings, she knew to tread lightly around her boss. More than that, she'd come to consider him a friend. Noticing his assistant's reticence, Brian knew something was up. "Okay, what's wrong? Remsen pulling his ads?"

"No," she said.

"Drew Boyd giving us shit again about posing?"

She shook her head.

"Don't make me play twenty fucking questions with you, Cynthia. If it's not business, then what is it?"

She sighed and hesitated. Then she met his gaze. "I had a message on voice mail this morning from your mother."

Fuck, he nearly said aloud. Then he did say it aloud causing Cynthia to blanch. Half-amused at her fearful expression, he decided not to torture her. "What did the Ice Queen say?"

"That she wanted to stop by and see the new office. See how her son was doing."

Shit, he thought. Cynthia knew next to nothing about his personal life but she'd met Justin and Claire, on occasion. So he knew that she was aware of how tense things were between himself and his family. That he'd often preferred to not be encumbered with a family. "How did she sound?"

"A little cold but coherent."

Well, that was something, he thought. At least, she didn't call to leave the message when she was drunk. That would be embarrassing and difficult to explain away "Thanks, Cynthia."

"You okay?"

Brian nodded though he was anything but. "Yeah, I'm fine. Put her through if she calls." He hated saying that but he knew that he couldn't really cut her off entirely even though he'd like to. Some small part of him still wished for her acceptance and approval as much as it grated him that he needed those things. 

Cynthia nodded and returned to her desk. She buzzed him a few hours later and said, "Do you need me to do anything?"

"Like work? It's why I pay your salary," he sniped, looking over a proposal and crossing out several sections that would have to go back to legal before they were sent to Bridgeton Cosmetics.

Cynthia almost said asshole but caught herself in time. "Your mother's on line 3. Do you want me to put her through?"

No, he'd rather get a tooth canal, but he knew he couldn't put this off. She was still his mother after all. "Yeah," he said, sounding less than pleased.

Brian rubbed his temples as he pressed the speaker button on his phone; this way he could still work while she berated him. "Mom," he said, tentatively. Christ, why was it so fucking difficult to talk to the woman?

"Brian."

He nearly smiled; she sounded as awkward as he felt. "Do you need something? Money? More sherry?"

"Don't be rude. I wanted to see your office. I figured I should get the grand tour." She paused a moment to pour some more sherry into a glass. "After all, it's not everyday my son becomes so successful."

The bitterness was nearly palpable. Most parents' would be happy to see their son succeed but he'd never had that kind of home life. "I told Claire."

"Yes, I know. Nice of you to tell me."

Don't do this. I'm not going to feel guilty because I didn't tell you about my business. "Mom, what do you want from me?"

"Well, I want to see your new office. Will you give me directions?"

Brian couldn't believe how much this hurt as he synced his palm pilot with his computer and pulled up his agenda for the day. "How about late afternoon? Around 4."

"I have mass at six," she reminded him.

Of course. Her daily dose of Catholicism and hypocrisy, in the form of one Father Tom. He'd always wondered what would happen if his mother found out that he'd fucked her priest. "I'm sure that we'll be done by then." If not, blood would have been shed.

He gave her directions and then buzzed Cynthia. When she answered, he said, "Do you still have some of that Tylenol 3?"

"Yes. Headache?" she asked, concern creeping into her voice.

For once, he didn't bust her on it. He simply said, "Yeah. Can you bring me a bottle of water too? Please."

Cynthia's jaw dropped and she was glad Brian couldn't see her from the interior of his office. "Yeah. You okay, boss?"

"Fine," he said, careful to keep his voice level. He didn't really want to bust her ass today. She hadn't done anything wrong except very carefully express a slight amount of concern. 

Later on that afternoon, Justin found himself at the apartment he shared with Daphne. He sat on their sofa and idly sketched a picture of Brian. He was still his favorite subject even though he complained when he was asked to pose. He heard the door open and Daphne blew in. "Hey," she said.

"Hey. Going out tonight?" he asked, figuring he and Brian wouldn't be getting together. After the events of the previous evening, he thought they needed some time apart. After all, too much togetherness could be bad.

"Don't know. I have a paper due on Monday that I should probably work on."

"Procrastinate, you?" he teased, earning a glare from Daphne.

"Everything okay? You and Brian didn't have a fight again, did you?" She hated it when her best friend and his partner were fighting. She was always the one who had to mop up the pieces when Brian fucked up.

"No," Justin said. "I just don't know if we'll be hanging out tonight. He hasn't felt much like going out."

Daphne took a seat, setting her backpack aside for the moment, to study her friend. "Brian's never really been reclusive," she noted. "He's always been the type to hop at the chance to go out to the clubs. You sure he's okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine," Justin said, not really wanting to expand on the details of their nonexistent sex life. He'd really been hoping that the tea would work and hadn't really been able to hide his disappointment that it hadn't.

"Justin, maybe he just needs some time alone. Time to regroup. Like you did after--" she cut herself off as she realized she was going to say after Ethan.

"After Ethan?" he finished her thought, smiling ruefully at her.

"I don't know. I think I'm just gonna hang out here tonight. Maybe watch a little bad TV or some porn."

Daphne stared at him. He hadn't been getting any satisfaction either, she realized, stunned. "Justin Taylor, why the hell don't you go to the backroom?"

"I don't want some trick to suck me off," Justin said. "I want Brian."

"I know you do but that doesn't mean you both have to suffer. I'm sure he'd understand."

"I don't want to, Daph. It would just feel wrong and like it validated all his fears about me not handling the whole cancer thing well. And, you're right, he'd understand. In fact, he's been pushing me to do the same thing."

Oh, she realized, staying silent. "If you change your mind about anything and want to talk, I'm available."

"Thanks, Daph."

Back at Kinnetik…  
Cynthia buzzed Brian once to let him know that his mother had arrived. Brian felt for one single moment like hiding under his desk then decided that he was man enough to handle his mother. He stood up, straightened his desk slightly, and went out to meet her in the front. He wondered for a brief moment if she'd realized just what his office used to be and the original purpose of the building. That nearly made him smile.

"Mom," he said, taking her by the arm. She looked nice, he had to say. Perfectly coiffed and groomed, nobody would know that she was an alcoholic.

"Brian," she said, her own voice careful. I don't know how to handle my own son, she thought, horrified by the idea. She'd never understand him, she realized. " Your new office is very impressive. And I like the name, Kinnetik with two n’s. It’s very clever."

She's as uncomfortable as I am, he realized. Well, for once, they had something in common. She hesitated a moment and then continued, "I'm glad to see you're doing so well."

Mom, just get to the fucking point. Why do you want to see me now? He had a horrible feeling that Debbie might have intervened after their conversation. If she knew, she was doing a good job at leading up to the exposition. "Well, that makes two of us," he said, dryly.

Joan gave him a glance. What did I do to make you hate me so much? She wondered. She'd never imagined that her son would be her enemy. And she'd never understand him or how she'd failed him so badly. "I saw Debbie Novotny this morning in church."

Ah, he thought, so that explains it. I'm her good deed of the day. Find out what's wrong with my son and then she'll go light a candle in my name. Hope it doesn't spontaneously combust. "What the hell was she doing there?" he asked instead.

"What most people do. Pray. She's quite a character," Joan said, observing her son's behavior as he stood behind his desk, knowing that he felt he needed some kind of barrier between them. 

"Yeah, well, I'll drink to that," Brian said, meaning every word. He was going to need a whole fucking bottle of Beam to get through tonight. He hated dealing with his family. Have I mentioned that?

"I don't know how her poor son ever survived."

Don’t you dare criticize Michael, Brian warned silently. He was having a hard, scratch that, difficult time keeping his temper in check without her being judgmental about one of his best friends. He so didn't need this. "Maybe because she loved him," he said, his voice soft and if she listened really closely he thought even she might be able to pick up on the hurt that lay underneath the words.

Joan studied her son, so proud and handsome. Too bad he was living such a life of sin, she thought. "And I love you. You may not believe that but it’s true. That’s why it hurts so much that I had to hear it from her and not from you. Why didn’t you tell me?"

Brian would rather her attempt to sell him a bridge in bayou country than listen to her tell him that she loved him. He knew that he was nothing more than an obligation to her; a way to spite Jack. And he'd never wanted her to know about his cancer. Maybe, he admitted, on some small level he'd subconsciously wished that Debbie would step in and tell his mother so he wouldn't have to deal with it. "The reason being?" Christ, his voice was so dry it was reminiscent of the Sahara.

My stubborn, prideful son. Just another sin, she thought. Then said, in a voice that some might call genuine, if they did not know Joan Kinney, "So I could help you!"

Brian nearly closed his eyes, and clenched his fists. This was bullshit. How long did he have to deal with this before he was simply going to explode. He'd given up on her as a mother a long time ago and it was too fucking late for her to play the mother card now. Not when she'd made her feelings about him so clear. "Well, I'm a big boy, Mom. I can dress myself." No sense mentioning that he'd needed help in that department a few days ago. The memory was still humiliating.

"I meant pray for you. Help you to see God's plan."

Ah yes, he thought, God's plan. The plan where I'm going to hell for loving someone the same sex as myself. The plan that states I'm going to burn in hell. That I'm going to end up in Purgatory. No fucking way is she going to hand me that. "God has a plan," he said, voice rich with irony.

Joan fingered the rosary in the pocket of her skirt and looked again at her son. He couldn't meet her eyes, she thought. Is that shame? She wondered. She'd have been mortified to know that the reason he couldn't meet her eyes is because he knew what a hypocrite she was. "He spared you for a reason. Do you know why?"

Not a clue, Mom. But then I've never been one of the Hardy Boys. I'm sure you're going to tell me and then I want you the FUCK out of my office. Giving in a little to his rising ire, Brian nearly exploded with the words, " To torment you! I mean, no martyr was ever sainted without going through a shitload of pain and suffering. Well, Saint Joan, say hello to your shitload."

Brian, she thought, stunned and ashamed and hurt by his words. She'd never wanted this but was not the type of woman to comprehend that she'd made her bed and now she had to lie in it. This mess with Brian was of her own making and not wholly her son's fault. " Brian. Whatever anger, whatever hatred you have for me, you’re still my son. And that’s why I’m trying to save you from the eternal fire. Every time you engage in behavior that the Bible says is an abomination, you’re adding another eternity to your sentence."

Great, just fucking great. Do you know, Mom, how much I would rather be fucking Justin right now than talking to you? Do you know how much I would like to be in the backroom getting my dick sucked? Of course, he didn't say any of that. He knew she'd be in the church praying soon enough. "Yeah, well, I wish I was engaging in it." I can't believe I just said that aloud. She doesn't need to know about my personal life or my current impotence. It's none of her business.

Joan was clearly oblivious to her son's inner turmoil as she said, with great fervor, " It brings tears to Jesus’ eyes knowing that you’ve sinned. But only you can save yourself from God’s punishment."

She did not just say that to me, Brian thought, fury speeding through his veins. I can't believe she actually thinks that testicular cancer is my punishment. Does she really hate me that much? And why do I still care about what she thinks? "You think God gave me cancer to punish me?" he asked, unable to completely keep the pain from his voice.

"It's not too late. You can still change. I know you can."

"I can?" he asked wryly.

"It won’t be easy. You’ll have to fight temptation. You’ll have to be strong, harden yourself."

Brian nearly smiled at her choice of words. Time to pull out all the stops, he thought. I want this bitch out of my office now. Ceding the last of his control, Brian gave into his emotions. "I want to be hard, Mom. You have no idea how much I want to be hard! Oh Lord, make me hard, so that I can fuck every hot guy I see! That’s why God gave me a second chance, Mom! So that I can use the one ball I have left!"

Joan was clearly shocked by his words and horrified. Goal accomplished, he thought. "Shame! Shame on you!" Joan turned on her heels and opened the office door as quickly as she could with Brian on her heels. Fuck, if she wanted a scene, he was going to give her one. He didn't care at the moment that this was on display for all of his employees.

As Joan fled, Brian called after her, "If I have to spend an eternity of eternities burning in Hell, it’s better than spending one good day in Heaven with you!"

He watched her go and then walked back to his office, knowing that his employees were wondering just what had happened to cause their boss to lose his famous composure. Some were a little scared but that was just part of learning to work for Brian. He closed the door behind him and crossed to his desk. He stood behind his desk and felt his dick. Is it getting hard? He thought in wonder. Then he felt it rising. Ironic, he thought. The last time she acted as a deflation device, now she helped with his hard-on problem. Wouldn't Justin be amused?

He looked skyward and said, sotto voce, "Thank you!"

Cynthia had seen Brian's mother go and knew that he'd snapped. She also didn't know what to do. His temper was infamous. Still she jumped when he buzzed her to come into his office.

She cautiously opened the door and then walked inside. Sensing her reluctance, Brian said, "Close the door behind you," he said. 

Cynthia did so and took a seat in one of the desk chairs, waiting for what was to come. "Um," she began and stopped when he shook his head.

"I imagine I'll be getting quite a few resignation letters due to that little display. I'm not going to explain that. It's nobody's fucking business and I'm only giving you an explanation because you deserve one."

Huh? She thought, but wisely did not say aloud.

"My mother and I do not get along as you obviously saw. She disapproves of me being gay and believes that I'm going to hell. Needless to say I do not give a shit. But she pushed my buttons today and I lost it."

Yeah, you could say that. "If anyone resigns, then they are a fool. Brian, you're a good boss and you are entitled to a personal life. And if your mother finds a problem with your relationship with Justin then she's a cold bitch and a cunt to boot."

There were reasons he believed the sentiment that mothers could be a fate worse than birth. But he refrained from saying it aloud.

Brian grinned. "I couldn't have put it better myself. Will you draft a memo to send out over e-mail? I'm going to take off early tonight." 

"Sure," she said. "Want me to fax it to you at the loft?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

She turned to go and then heard his voice behind her. "Cynthia."

"Yeah, boss."

"Thanks."

Understanding a verbal response was not necessary nor wanted, she simply nodded. Sometimes it was simply better to accept what Brian said than to try to read more into it.

Cynthia closed the door behind her and Brian picked up the phone. He pushed speed dial # 1 and heard a familiar voice that made him smile. Amazing how Justin could do that, he thought. "Hey, Sunshine. Want to meet me at Babylon at ten?"

Justin stopped highlighting a passage and stared at the phone. Had he heard him correctly? But then he heard Brian say, "Or do you have a better offer?"

"Um, no. No better offer. I'll be there at ten."

"Oh, Justin," he said, knowing that his words had intrigued the younger man. "Take a shower first."

Okay, Justin thought, something's up. Could it possibly be that? "Yeah. Later."

Brian smiled as he said, "Later."

That evening at Babylon…

Brian walked in to the club, in a black wife-beater and jeans, that fit him snugly and revealed his impressive package. He was not oblivious to the stares and murmurs but tonight, he had one target and one target only. Strange how that didn't bother him in the least. He saw Justin propped up against a column and smiled.

Justin had to take a deep breath as he took in the sight of his lover. Brian looked hot and dangerously sexy, he had to admit. He was still taken aback when Brian picked him up and whirled him around. It was not like Brian to engage in such a public display of affection. Then Brian set him down, though he still held him in an embrace. Eat your heart out boys, he thought, cause tonight the stud of Liberty Avenue is all mine.

"What’s up?"

Brian grinned, "Funny you should ask!" He turned around, arms raised. "Is that not a thing of beauty?

Justin smiled as his eyes went down to his lover's package. He was relieved and turned on to see that Brian was hard. "And a joy forever!" he said, truly meaning the words. He knew just how much this meant to Brian.

Brian took his hand and led him into the backroom. Finding a space, Brian leaned against the wall, with Justin facing him.

Justin said, somewhat loudly so Brian could hear him over the cacophony, "So that happy time tea actually worked?"

"Mmm...Unlikely."

"Then whence the woody?"

Brian grinned and said, voice rife with subtextual meaning, "Let’s just say that God gave me a second chance. I don’t wanna blow it, but you feel free to."

He knew that Justin wouldn't understand but he would reveal to him all the details later. At the moment, all Brian wanted was to feel Justin's lips on his cock. And knew the boy would be happy to oblige his need. Justin unzipped his pants and his cock sprang free, as Justin knelt, kissing the tip of his cock. He started to say go easy and then realized that Justin knew instinctively to go slow. As he sucked on the head of his dick, Brian realized with a start just how much he'd missed having Justin's mouth on him. God, this was amazing, he thought, leaning his head against the wall as Justin's tongue dug into the slit, fucking his pisshole. Then Justin released him so that just the head of his dick rested on his tongue and began to lick slowly and leisurely until Brian's hands fisted in his hair. He felt his balls rise up against his shaft and before he could deliver a warning, he was shooting down Justin's throat as the man deep-throated him.

Justin swallowed as Brian continued to shoot. God, he thought, that'd been building up for a while. Justin licked his lips as Brian helped him to his feet. "That was amazing," he said, meeting Brian's eyes. He started to face the wall himself, adopting the familiar position, when Brian shook his head.

"What?" Justin asked, unsure of the sudden direction of the evening. Usually Brian always fucked him after a blow job.

Leaning in close to him, because he didn't want the whole backroom to hear him, he said, "Let's go home. I don’t want us to be on display tonight."

Justin started to protest and then understood what Brian was trying to convey without actually saying it. He smiled and nodded slightly. He understood Brian needed this and why he needed this.

Once back at the loft, clothes went flying in a frenzied hurry, as the two were attached at the mouth. Justin gave no thought to fucking Brian; he just wanted the man inside him. The sooner the better.

Justin lay down on the bed, on his stomach, and then he heard Brian's voice, low and husky with need, "I want to see your face."

Justin turned over and spread his legs apart. Brian looked at the delectable picture Justin presented and felt himself get hard. He smiled as he looked down at his bouncing erection. Thank fucking God, he thought. "Justin," he said, then stopped, hesitating. Then he decided to stumble ahead with the words, "You knew what I needed tonight. And you went slow. Thank you."

Justin nodded. He wanted Brian so badly but knew that it had to be Brian who set the pace and he understood that need. Sometimes words weren't needed. "Turn over, Sunshine."

He hurried to acquiesce and Brian smiled as he looked at his lover's beautiful bubble butt. He'd really missed this, he realized. And he knew Justin had too. Somehow he'd held out. Brian kissed the nape of his neck and then Justin felt the wet warmth of Brian's tongue as it traced his spine and then slowly reached his cheeks. He squirmed a bit and Brian knew exactly what he wanted. Sometimes it was good to be predictable. Brian blew on his hole and watched it spasm, then licked all around it, carefully avoiding direct contact. He knew just how much Justin loved it when he did this. He licked the sensitive area between Justin's hole and his balls, tongue just barely grazing his sac. "Brian," Justin said.

"What?"

"Eat me," he said, voice husky with his own desire.

"Eat what?"

"Eat my ass."

"Not yet," Brian said, intending to torture him just a little bit longer. He hadn't forgotten Justin's seductive little striptease when he was having a mini meltdown. He ran his tongue over the folds of flesh and heard Justin's moan above him. His tongue played in the folds of his ass, carefully avoiding direct contact. Brian pressed his thumbs on either side of the hole and it opened slightly. His tongue eased inside, pushing past the first muscle, and then the second. He curled the tip of his tongue and attacked the top of Justin's asshole before withdrawing. But he wasn't done yet.

He darted his tongue inside again, realizing just how much he'd come to crave this taste. He continued tongue-fucking Justin's hole until it began to spasm around him. And knew that Justin was close to the brink. "I'm gonna come," Justin said, and felt his balls draw up against his shaft as he began to shoot his load.

Brian moved back and waited as the shudders passed. Then Justin turned over and looked up at Brian, face and chest damp with perspiration, chest streaked with semen. "I've missed that," he admitted, voice still breathless from the force of his orgasm.

"I know, baby," Brian said. He flushed as he realized what he'd said. 

Sensing that he was about to take back the words Justin shook his head. He liked it when Brian called him baby and knew it wasn't the older man infantalizing him. "It's okay," he said, and moved to a sitting position then moving to stand.

"Where are you going?" Brian asked.

"To get a washcloth to wash this off," he said, indicating the cum on his chest.

Brian shook his head. He took Justin's hand and drew him close. Then Justin felt his tongue begin to lap up the strands of cum. As Brian's tongue worked to clean his sonny boy, Justin felt his cock begin to get hard again and knew that Brian was probably experiencing the same thing. When Brian considered him suitably clean, he leaned back and said, "You up for round two?"

Justin nodded. God, it was so fucking good to have his man back and in top form. They proceeded to fuck for the rest of the night. And Justin was content to be Brian's bottom boy for the night, knowing that his position was secure and safe. For that night, at least, the shadows and demons had been chased away. He knew he'd still have fears and that they had things to work through but he wasn't as fearful as he'd once been. So he knew that they had a chance.


End file.
